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Uncle reached the trunk first, halting ever so slightly before bending in for a closer look. My pulse quickened with each step I took; I knew there was a body, but the discovery of who was a wretched thing. Finally, I stood over the trunk and peered down, stomach churning.
“Mrs. Prescott.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, shaking my head. The mother who had seemed so devastated and lost after her daughter had been killed at our table, always staring out at the endless sea. Part of me longed to sink to my knees, trying to search for a pulse that I knew had long since ceased. I could not fathom telling the chief magistrate that not only had this cruise ship taken his daughter but now his wife. The invitation he’d received swam through the forefront of my mind. The murderer clearly wanted the Prescott women aboard this ship in order to kill them. Though why he’d kill Mrs. Prescott quietly and leave her in a trunk seemed to differ from his normal theatrics. Perhaps he was desperate to lay the blame on someone else. Maybe planting her body here would lead us to investigate Andreas—he was, after all, well versed in tarot meanings.
Instead of falling apart, I inhaled deeply. “We need to notify her husband at once.” I barely recognized my voice—it was cool and unwavering. So unlike my churning emotions. Mephistopheles stared at me a moment before nodding. I faced my uncle. “Let’s get her decent for his identification. You take her arms; I’ll get her legs. We’ll place her on that settee in the corner.”
Ten phunny phools
THIRTY-TWO
FIVE OF HEARTS
MUSIC ROOM
RMS ETRURIA
7 JANUARY 1889
“Come. Let’s get you settled with some brandy.” Captain Norwood extended an arm toward the chief magistrate. “If there’s anything else you need…”
Chief Magistrate Prescott stared, unblinking, at his wife. I could not fathom his thoughts.
“With all due respect, Captain,” Uncle said, “I have a few questions for Cheif Magistrate Prescott first.”
The captain’s face turned crimson. “Not now, Doctor. Can’t you see he’s a wreck?”
Chief Magistrate Prescott didn’t even respond to his name. He was most decidedly in shock, but Uncle was correct. We needed to press him for information that would be useful immediately. Time had a strange way of distorting facts.
However, Uncle relented. “All right. We’ll call on him later.”
Once the captain had led the stricken man out of the room, I turned back to the body of Mrs. Prescott, doing my best to divorce myself from memories of her in life. We’d laid her across a settee and propped her head up on an embroidered pillow, giving her the appearance of a peaceful rest, albeit an eternal one.
“Close and latch the door,” Uncle said, directing his attention to Thomas, then inspected Mephistopheles as if he were a new brand of mold that we needed to be rid of. “Take your fortune-teller and swordsman and leave us. We’ll speak more later.”
Jian’s eyes flashed. “What else is there to say? Andreas came here to divine Mrs. Harvey’s future with the magic looking glass. That’s when he—” He shook his head. “Forget it. I’ll be in my cabin. Come on, Andreas.”
The fortune-teller glanced toward the looking glass, biting his lip. “No harm will come to—”
“I’ll make sure none of your belongings are ruined,” I said. I knew how valuable the looking glass was, and not simply because of its supposed ability to see into the future.
With that, both he and Jian left, the ringmaster giving us a curt nod before following them out.
“I’ll escort Mrs. Harvey back to her rooms,” Liza offered. “Don’t worry,” she added when Thomas looked ready to protest, “I’ll stay with her until you return.”
I clutched my cousin’s hands once. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
As Liza guided a still-muttering Mrs. Harvey out the door, the first mate came in with Uncle’s medical bag. Uncle motioned to the foot of the settee. “There is fine. Now, then. Audrey Rose, come inspect the body. Tell me what you notice. Thomas, are you ready?”
My friend removed the journal and pen from his inner jacket pocket, a grim set to his lips. “Yes, Professor.”
“Good. Audrey Rose? Do as we’ve practiced.”
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, forcing myself to see only this new case. I walked around the body, trying to locate any clue before picking up the measurin
g tape as Uncle had done earlier. “Victim is one hundred and fifty-seven centimeters. Reddish-brown hair, neatly maintained. Though there are some bits of gray near her temples.” I steeled myself and peeled back her eyelid. “Eye color is brown.” I held in my gasp. “Petechial hemorrhaging is present in the whites of her eyes.”
At this Uncle stepped forward and peered into her unseeing eyes. “Excellent, Niece. We have the likely cause of death—suffocation.”
