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With that, he offered a mock bow, signaled to Cassie to follow, and disappeared up the stairs, leaving me alone to deal with the chaos he’d unleashed. I took a deep breath and met Uncle’s furious glare. Facing the lion in its cage would be mildly less intimidating, even after its attack.
“I can explain everything, Uncle.”
TWENTY
A FINE DEDUCTION
ANIMAL CARGO HOLD
RMS ETRURIA
5 JANUARY 1889
“What in ten hells does he mean by ‘mystery of the severed arm’?” Captain Norwood’s voice was a boom of thunder in the tense quiet. A monkey near the end of the cargo hold screeched, and I did my best not to flinch from either outburst. The captain was as temperamental as the sea he navigated. “Tell me it’s not an actual human arm.”
“I’m afraid there is a human specimen in the lion’s cage,” I said, never imagining I’d be stringing those words together. I tore my gaze from the captain and focused on Thomas, hoping to do my best to explain to him—as well as the captain and my uncle—what had just transpired… aside from me wrapped in the arms of an undressed man.
“Mephistopheles was trying to remove the lion when it attacked him,” I said. “I haven’t been able to fully inspect the scene yet, so I’ve no further details. From first glance, however, someone has changed out the hay. It’s possible it was done in an attempt to tidy up the murder scene, but I won’t know for certain until I’m able to get into the cage and have a proper look.”
Thomas strode toward the cage and severed limb in question, his focus moving from the large cat to the gnawed arm to God only knew what. He strummed his fingers along the metal bars, the sound dulled thanks to the leather gloves he wore. The captain opened his mouth, but my uncle silenced him with a raised hand. No one ought to interrupt Thomas while he lost himself in those equations only he could see. Not for the first time did I wish to possess a fragment of that particular skill of his.
“This isn’t the murder scene,” he said, and I knew him enough by this point to not doubt his deduction. “This is simply where the body was left. In fact, I don’t believe the rest of the body was ever here. It’s likely overboard by now, or the murderer is planning on dumping it soon. Robbery or theft wasn’t the motive—see the ring? This crime was either premeditated or done out of convenience.”
“You seem mighty confident,” the captain muttered. “Perhaps you ought to let Dr. Wadsworth speak, boy.”
Thomas closed his eyes, and I could only imagine the sort of things he might be stopping himself from saying aloud. It was incredible, truly, that he’d harnessed himself. A breath later, he pulled his shoulders back and affected a tone that brooked no arguments to his authority on the matter. Despite the current circumstances, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Thomas was magnifi
cent when he used his talents on a case, his confidence well earned. He was maturing from the arrogant young man I’d met last summer.
“Thomas?” Uncle asked. “Care to elaborate for the captain?”
He nodded. “Note the shade of the blood smear on the padlock and the bit of rust color on the keys.”
“Get on with it, then,” the captain said. Clearly he was in no mood for pleasantries this evening. “Why should I care about the color of blood?”
“Mephistopheles wasn’t bleeding, so the smearing on the padlock and the keys did not come from him.” Thomas paused a moment and walked around the cage, but I swore I heard an accusation in the silence.
“From that alone it’s safe to assume that the blood is either the murderer’s or victim’s,” he continued. His tone was professional, cool, perhaps I’d imagined the tinge of agitation. “It’s dark, indicating it wasn’t fresh when it was transferred to the lock. I imagine it was almost dried when the murderer touched those things. If this had been the scene of the crime, then there would be blood splatter and massive stains present on the floor. A limb was removed from a person—it would have been a nasty affair. Even with the straw changed, there would be blood on the floors, walls, and ceiling. Have you been to a slaughterhouse, Captain? Messy business, that is. As for the ring? If that was the motive behind the attack, then that would have been the first thing to go.”
“Maybe he couldn’t get it off her finger,” the captain said.
“Then he would have cut it off,” I said, earning a disgusted look from the man. As if I were the one who’d shorn the arm off. “And it’s not a woman’s arm. Our victim is a male. And the ring is a wedding band.”
Thomas wound his way between each cage, kicking stray bits of hay as he went. He knelt down, then gazed up, searching the ceiling for blood splatter, I assumed. I followed where his attention landed and blinked. A torn bit of cobalt fabric was caught on something in the low ceiling. It appeared to be silk. I squinted and just made out the outline of a panel. An idea clicked at once. “Where does that access panel lead, Captain?”
“It’s simply a maintenance portal connecting this room to the crew corridors.” The captain waved it off. “No one aside from select members of the crew has access. And they must first ask me for the key.”
“What’s it used for?” Thomas prodded. “How large is the compartment?”
“It’s mostly for electrical matters,” Captain Norwood said. “A man would need to crouch and fold himself over to pass through it. Not an ideal way to transport a body, if that’s what you’re getting at with this theory of yours.”
I mulled that information over. Given our experience with murderers as of late, I was only too aware that a killer didn’t have to be a man. “A woman wouldn’t have much trouble. It would be unwise to discredit anyone at this point, sir.” Another more obvious suspect leapt out at me. “Sebastián might also be capable of fitting through there.” When they all stared at me blankly, I added, “The contortionist. I’ve seen him fold himself into knots.”
Thomas’s expression was carefully blank. I would have much to explain once we were off the ship.
“Miss Wadsworth, I beg your pardon, but allow me to speak plainly—there’s no possible way it was used,” the captain argued. “As I have just stated, the only set of keys is in my possession in my quarters. No one has been in there for two days. I’m sure of it. Unless you’d like to accuse me of depositing this limb, that panel is out of the question. You must come up with a better theory of how it came to be here.”
I mentally counted to ten. Keys could be lifted, locks picked, and with an entire ship full of carnival performers who made the impossible possible, I felt the captain wasn’t being realistic. Houdini was known in both England and America as the King of Handcuffs. He alone was gifted with lock picking, squeezing into tight spaces, and making a swift escape.
