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“Sir?” I asked, hating the edge of worry in my voice. “You will agree, won’t you?”
“I may.”
Relief sluiced through me. I practically stumbled out of my seat and threw my arms around my father’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Father!”
He held me close, chuckling. “Now, now, child. Save your thanks for a little while more. Let’s first hear what your Mr. Cresswell has to say.”
Post-mortem set, London, England, 1860-1870.
TEN
CORPSE DELIVERY
GRANDMAMA’S CORRIDOR
FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
22 JANUARY 1889
I snuck into the parlor and cracked the door open, watching Thomas stand outside the sitting room, squaring his shoulders as if readying for war. I supposed it was a battle of sorts—he’d be fighting for my hand against a father who didn’t wish to relinquish it just yet. It took all of my self-control to not go to him. He appeared determined, yet the way he stared at the closed door hinted at his own nerves. Not much ever subdued Thomas’s swagger, though it appeared that my father’s presence was doing a wonderful job of it. I’d made one more request to my father, and now it was up to Thomas to win this scrimmage for us both.
Uncle came around the corner, apron in hand. “They’re bringing a body ’round the back. I’ve set up the carriage house for the autopsy. Gather your tools and meet me there at once.”
My cheeks flushed as Thomas canted his head in our direction. So much for stealth.
“Are you—can it not wait?” I motioned to the room Thomas finally disappeared into. Uncle knew precisely what was happening and how important it was. “Thomas is—”
“Wasting time with matters of the heart when we’ve got a more important duty to uphold.” His eyes flashed in warning. “Do not remind me of his wayward priorities. Unless you’d like to both be taken from this case or any future cases, I suggest you realign your focus. The two of you are acting like lovestruck young adults instead of serious students of forensic medicine. Settle your personal affairs on your own time.”
With that he stormed past me and slammed the front door. I bit my lip, stealing one more look at the parlor. I longed to rush to Thomas and find out exactly what my father decided, but Uncle was right. This case was the most important of my life. If Jack the Ripper lived, I needed to set that straight before any more talk of weddings or love took place.
I called for my medical bag to be brought outside and made my way to the carriage house and the new body waiting to tell us its secrets.
“Focus! The left kidney weighs how much?” Uncle asked, practically snarling.
Another young woman lay on our makeshift examination table, silent, unlike the muffled street noise working its way into the carriage house. Wooden wheels clattering over cobblestones and another ravaged body weren’t the only causes of my distraction, however. My leg ached terribly. I’d removed my overcoat and gloves in favor of working efficiently, and it was unforgivably cold. My breath puffed in little white clouds as I weighed the organ, teeth chattering.
“O-one hundred a-and sixteen g-grams, sir.”
Uncle’s attention snapped from the opened corpse to me, swiftly noting the shivers I was no longer able to hide. My heavy velvet charcoal gown with scarlet trim was warm enough for sitting indoors with a hot cup of tea and a good book, but it was January in New York and the weather was as wicked as the person leaving bodies like fallen bits of snow around the slums.
“Grieves!” Uncle shouted for the poor stable boy he’d snagged for this most gruesome task. The young man appeared in the doorway, stealing glances at the slain woman, his complexion almost tinged green. “Tend to the fire. But mind it doesn’t get too warm. We don’t want to accelerate the decomposition of the body, do we?” The boy shook his head, no longer appearing just green; he now looked quite ready to vomit at the thought of a rotten corpse in his mistress’s carriage house. Whether it was from fear of my grandmother or the corpse, it was hard to discern. He’d already paled to an unhealthy hue when Uncle had demanded he remove all three of Grandmama’s carriages and replace them with an examination table. Perhaps he worried he’d end up like the cadaver we were carving once Grandmama found out. “Off you go, then!”
Horses quietly nickered and neighed from the next building, stamping their feet in either appreciation or annoyance as the boy added coal to the elaborate iron stove in the corner. Grandmama’s property was quite luxurious for city dwellings—having both a carriage house and stables. The fireplace warmed the space marginally where we worked, though the ground still seemed to delight in sending blasts of icy air up my skirts. I worked the numbness from my fingers, knowing I’d be of no use if they remained as stiff as rigor mortis.
“Ready?” Uncle asked, pursing his mouth.
“Yes, sir.” My leg throbbed, though I gritted my teeth and kept quiet about it, lest Uncle remove me from my task. “The right kidney is a bit larger—it’s one hundred and twenty grams.”
He held out a specimen tray and I deposited the slippery organ, heart racing as it nearly tumbled off the surface of the slick metal. “Easy, now.”
Uncle set it next to a specimen jar. I eyed the formalin waiting to be used and wiped my blade down with carbolic acid before choosing another tool from the bounty laid out on a small tray table. It was time to remove the stomach and sift through its contents to see what secrets it held.
A few slices in the correct areas had the stomach out and on the table, ready to be explored further. I hesitated, meeting my uncle’s hungry gaze across the body. For the first time I recognized his expression for what it truly was—curiosity. It was an inherited trait, after all. He nodded toward the organ, doing a poor job of keeping that insatiable thirst for knowledge in check. I cut carefully down the center of the stomach, doing my best to avoid having the blade sink too deep and destroy any evidence that might be present.
Uncle handed toothed forceps over, pointing to the two flaps I’d made. “Good. Now pull them back—excellent. Well done.” He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Note any scent lingering.”
Though it was hardly the most appealing part of our job, I leaned close, drawing in a large breath. “Honestly, it smells a bit of ale. Is that… possible?”
