Murder on the Titania and Other Steam-Powered Adventures

by Alex Acks

  He beckoned the older lady out into the hall. “You seem quite well acquainted with your fellow crew members.”

  “Could say so, sir.” She raised an eyebrow at him, obviously waiting for him to get to the point.

  It made him distinctly uncomfortable to speak so frankly, but the pursuit of justice was far more important, and Mrs. Ivers had already shown herself to be a very pragmatic woman. Those of the lower classes tended to be, in his experience. “Are there any among the serving girls that might…carry out affairs with the gentlemen passengers?”

  She sucked at her teeth. “Aye, a few names spring to mind.”

  He offered her his pen and one of her own sheets of paper. “If you would be so good to write those names down, and then…” Of course, nearly everyone was a suspect, but it was useful to have a starting point for inquiries. As Mrs. Ivers began to make her list, he looked into her cabin. “Miss Dory, have you recovered from your shock sufficiently to return to your quarters?”

  She nodded. “I think so, Colonel. If you would be so good as to escort me?”

  “Of course, that was my intention.” He offered Dory his arm as Mrs. Ivers returned his pen and the paper, now folded in half. “Mrs. Ivers, you have my deep gratitude for the many services you have done for me this morning. I will make certain that the captain is informed.”

  “Bless you, sir,” Mrs. Ivers said, ducking into a rough little curtsey. “’Twas the least I could do. Take care, Miss Dory.”

  Dory was strangely silent for part of their walk back to the passenger deck. As they approached the hallway leading to the quarters for the wealthiest passengers, however, she hesitated. “Colonel?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think that Lady Caraway will be all right? Do you think…maybe I should check on her? Of course I haven’t known her that long, but we had such lovely conversations before dinner that I almost feel as if we’ve known each other for years.”

  “I am intending to check in on her personally.” Geoff remembered the wan look on the woman’s face as she left the dining room, already suspecting her husband had done their marriage harm before being struck this terrible blow. “Perhaps your presence might be of some comfort to the lady, if you feel up to the task yourself, of course.” While the presence of a bystander made his task a little more difficult, it was also a necessity. It would be most unsuitable for him to be in the lady’s private room for any length of time without some sort of chaperon. In a pinch, Dory would have to do.

  Dory smiled, trying to draw her plump frame up a little taller and squaring her soft shoulders. “I may have had a nasty shock, Colonel, but it has not rendered me selfish or mean. I doubt I can be of much comfort in the face of such a horrible loss, but I will do my best.”

  He knocked lightly on the door, which was made of black walnut, a much finer, thicker wood than that of the servant’s cabins. For a moment, he wondered if the lieutenant hadn’t woken the lady; then the door swung open soundlessly, revealing Lady Caraway. She was obviously still dressed to sleep, a scarlet brocade dressing gown carelessly tied over her white sleeping nightgown. The brilliant color only made her look more wan, bordering on jaundiced. Her eyes were red and puffy and her hair in complete disarray, but she was otherwise composed.

  Geoff quickly averted his gaze. “Lady Caraway, I’m afraid to be the bearer of ill news.”

  “Please, come in, Colonel, Miss Dory,” she said, standing aside. “Unless you have news that outmatches the death of my husband, it can hardly be worse.” She walked a trifle unsteadily over to the small grouping of richly embroidered couches that comprised the sitting area. Geoff hazarded a quick glance around the room but saw nothing untoward; the door that led to the bedroom of the luxurious cabin was firmly shut. The curtains on one side of the room were drawn back, revealing the night sky outside, stars hanging above, a soft gray carpet of clouds beneath them, and the Titania’s sleek oval form a darker smudge cast by the moonlight.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Caraway. Did Lieutenant Collins disturb you with the news? He may be an officer, but he’s not so old I wouldn’t gladly box his ears for such an affront.”

  Her eyes widened with a hint of surprise. She quickly shook her head. “No, please don’t stir yourself on my behalf. I’d rather be told ill news at once than be kept in suspense.”

  “I see.”

  “I am sorry that such a terrible thing has befallen you,” Dory said, sitting down with surprising delicacy on the edge of one couch. “Please, is there anything I can get for you?”

  “If you could ring for some tea, that would be lovely,” the lady said. Dory immediately stood and went to the corner where the small telephone sat. She wound it up quickly and then called in their request before returning to her seat.

  “I am afraid that I must ask you a few questions,” Geoff said. “I do not wish to intrude, but it is necessary. When did your husband return from dinner?”

  “I’m not entirely certain. I was feeling unwell, as you may recall. I came back to our room to sleep. I know that he returned at some point, since I remember him kissing me on the cheek to say good night. But I was far too tired and overwhelmed.”

  “And then I suppose you do not recall him later leaving?”

  “I’m afraid not. I wish that I could be of help, Colonel. I really do.”

  “Did he have any enemies? Or perhaps have an altercation, even a minor one, in the short time we’ve been on this ship?”

  “Of course not. My husband was a kind and generous man. He never had a harsh word for anyone.” For a moment she closed her eyes tightly, her voice shaking with emotion.

  There was a soft knock at the door; Dory answered it and returned with a tea tray. She poured a cup of tea for Lady Caraway and offered one to Geoff, which he refused.

  “Was he—” Geoff paused, not quite able to bring himself to ask about an affair so directly, not when confronted by her pale face “—acting at all strangely?” he finished a bit lamely.

  She stared at him.

  Taking it as incomprehension, he tried again. “Did he often absent himself at odd hours?”

  “Colonel, please!” Lady Caraway’s hand shook; she would have spilled her tea into her lap if Dory hadn’t moved quickly to steady her. “There is nothing I can say to help you. Nothing unusual or out of place. I’ve been asleep all night. If only I hadn’t been, maybe I could have prevented this somehow!”

  Dory gave him a long look, murmuring, “It’s all right,” to the lady.

  Perhaps she did know something, but as distraught as she seemed, he wouldn’t find out anything useful now, and he had no desire to push the lady into another attack of the sort they’d seen at dinner. He rose to his feet. “If you will excuse me ladies, I need not upset you further, I think. Please, do let me know if you remember anything at all.”

  “I won’t,” Lady Caraway said, her voice harsh with tears. “I won’t.”

  Geoff bowed to the ladies and left the room quickly. As he left the room, he ran into the doctor; he caught the man before he could fall, but barely. He held on to the doctor’s jacket of deep maroon cotton broadcloth, until he was certain that the man was steady on his feet. He caught a sour whiff of alcohol in the process; the doctor hadn’t been joking about the brandy in his room. “Doctor.”

  “Colonel.” Dr. Lehmacher attempted a rather unsteady bow. “Have you just been to see Lady Caraway? Is she all right? Did she…see anything?”

  “I think she’s quite shaken. And was solidly asleep all evening, so I’m afraid she is of no help to our investigation.”

  The doctor nodded, swaying dangerously in time with the motion. “I am sorry to hear that. I thought maybe I should look in on her.”

  “I think the only thing you ought to look in on right now is your pillow, dear fellow. You’re in no state to minister to anyone’s health at the moment.”

  The doctor leaned against the wall. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “It’s been a terrible nig
ht for us all, I’m sure. Miss Dory is with Lady Caraway now; I’m sure if things take a worrying turn, she will fetch you. Go to bed, man.”

  “Yes…yes, you’re right.” The doctor nodded, his head not quite straight on his neck. “I’ll go to bed. And you ought to as well, Colonel.”

  “Oh, I will, fear not.” Geoff waited until Dr. Lehmacher was well on his way back down the hall before leaving. Doing his best to ignore the steadily increasing twinge in his leg, he followed the labyrinth of corridors to the bridge.

  It was a marvel of modern technology, gleaming brass and lovingly polished wood, thousands of dials and levers and wheels that regulated every aspect of life on board the great airship. Officers in sober blue with shining brass buttons moved back and forth between the instrument panels. Even more impressive was the view, a one hundred and eighty degree panorama of the sky, with the stars and moon ahead and the silent clouds entirely cloaking the landscape far below. The colors of false dawn were just beginning to flow over the wind-stirred tops, the sun itself still hiding behind the distant curve of the horizon.

  Little could he enjoy these wonders, however, with a mind spun in circles by too many questions. It seemed obvious that Lord Caraway had been conducting some sort of affair. Was his mistress married and her husband on board, thus making this a death caused by impassioned vengeance? Had he been robbed perhaps, as he left his clandestine rendezvous in a crime of opportunity? Or was there another hidden dimension to this bit of robbery? Absurd though it seemed, he could not put the potential presence of the notorious pirate Captain Ramos entirely from his mind.

  “Ah, Colonel…I have been expecting you,” Captain MacConnell said. He was a large man, almost too tall for the corridors of his own ship, and well built besides. His red-brown hair and neat beard were salted with white. “Has the matter been resolved?”

  “Not yet,” Geoff said, frowning. “Murder is far more complex than guarding my employer’s property from common thieves.” As worried as he had been over his new job, it was nothing compared to the strain of dealing with Lord Caraway’s death. That sort of thing had most decidedly not been in the job description.

  “So it is true. A damned shame.” The captain gave him a little half bow. “And please, don’t think me unappreciative. You are far more qualified to handle this matter than any of the guards, or I would never have troubled you.”

  Feeling slightly mollified, Geoff cleared his throat. “Indeed. I understand you have been put in an awkward position, Captain.”

  “Any service that I and my crew can render is yours. I want this matter resolved before we unload at port.”

  “We are in agreement. I shouldn’t like to give the murderer the chance to escape.” And into his new home duchy no less—that wouldn’t do at all. He cleared his throat again, refocusing his mind on the details of the matter at hand. “I’ve a list of all the crew that live in that hallway. I need to know where they were all of last night, and if any saw unusual comings or goings around cabin number…let me see…one fifty-one. And of course if anyone saw Lord Caraway or any other person of interest moving about near that fateful hour. This second list is…Captain, it should go without saying, but I am compelled to speak even so. I trust our conversation will be kept in the strictest confidence?” He waited for the captain to nod before continuing. “I have gathered the names of women in your crew who may have…loose moral character. Lord Caraway was involved in some sort of affair, and the woman involved must be found.” He held out the lists to the captain. “I do not think I need to see to each of them personally if you believe your guards are up to the task. I will only need to question the ones who are inconsistent or otherwise suspicious.”

  “I’ll see that it is done.” The captain hesitated, and then asked, “Was there nothing of interest or worth found on the body? No clues at all?”

  Geoff gave him a thin smile. “I’m afraid this is no penny dreadful mystery, Captain. Perhaps the most interesting fact is that nothing was found on him at all…barely his own clothing, even. I think he may have been robbed, though if that was the motivation behind his death, I cannot say.” He considered. “Yes, I think you ought to have your guards search the cabins belonging to the servants and see if any have possessions that they ought not have.”

  “That will be done as well, then. Is there anything further?”

  “No, I think not. Before I can find the next turn in the path, I need more information.”

  “I will see to it that you have that information.” The captain glanced at the ornate clock that sat in the panels near the ship’s wheel, above the compass. “You’ve still got a few hours before breakfast will be served. Perhaps you should take some rest in the meantime, Colonel, while the guards do the legwork for you. You look like you’ve been used rather hard, if you take my meaning.”

  “Indeed I do. Though I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, with so many suppositions rattling around in my head.” He rubbed one hand against his cheek, grimacing at the scratch of unruly stubble. “I think I can be convinced to at least retire briefly in order to attend to my toilet.” He took his leave of the captain and returned to his room, his mind swirling with the image of Lord Caraway’s head surrounded by a sticky halo of blood.

  After shaving, Geoff intended to lie down on the cabin’s small bed, just to close his eyes for a few minutes before it was time to prepare for breakfast. He’d barely undone the buttons on his vest, however, when there was more knocking on his door. He opened it quickly; this time it was one of the stewards on the other side. “Yes?”

  “If you’ll come with me, sir, we’ve found something we think you ought to see,” the steward said, touching his cap respectfully.

  Geoff’s eyebrows went up a little with surprise. “That was quite fast, wasn’t it?”

  “Our guards, sir, they don’t mess about their business.” He led Geoff back down to the crew quarters. A guard stood outside one of the cabin doors, at attention. Another guard was inside the small cabin, where a rather disreputable-looking deckhand sat on the bed.

  The man glared at Geoff. He rose and said, “You’ve got no right—”

  “Shut it,” the guard said. “Or I’ll hold you down for the gentleman.”

  Geoff frowned. “What have you found, officer?”

  “We were doing the cabin search as ordered, sir, and found some stolen property in the possession of this…gentleman.” The guard offered Geoff a cigar box.

  “And this ‘gentleman’s’ name?” Geoff asked as he opened the box.

  “Stark,” the deckhand spat out.

  “Mr. Stark.” Out of habit, Geoff added, “A pleasure, I’m sure.” He examined the inside of the cigar box with great interest. Most of the shining contents were obviously the property of women. The pocket watch, however, was a different matter. Using his pen, Geoff lifted the pocket watch up carefully by its chain. It was badly dented, its face cracked, and the hands no longer moved. The time was stopped at two sixteen. “Where did you come by this?”

  “Found it,” the man said.

  “Found it on the body of a dead man, I gather,” Geoff said mildly.

  “I ain’t no grave robber,” the man said, drawing himself up.

  “No, sir, you are a thief, and now it would seem a murderer.”

  “I didn’t kill no one!” the deckhand shouted. “I found it, just found it. I didn’t see no body!”

  Geoff snorted, shaking his head. He reached for his handkerchief, but remembered that he’d given it to Dory. “Your handkerchief, if you please,” he said to the guard. “Thank you.” He wrapped the watch up, put it in his pocket, and then favored the deckhand with a narrow-eyed look. “There’ll be a noose waiting for you in the Grand Duchy of Denver.”

  “I said I didn’t kill no one! I found it fair and square.”

  Geoff began to poke through the cigar box again with his pen, ignoring the deckhand. He turned up the golden owl pin that Lord Caraway had worn to dinner; it was half coated with blacken
ed, dried blood. “Show me your hands,” he ordered the deckhand.

  The deckhand said something vile; the guard cuffed him across the jaw, and then yanked up his hands for Geoff to inspect. The man had obviously not washed his hands in quite some time; dirt and grease streaked them, creating smudged rims around his fingernails. Geoff took the lorgnette back from his pocket and peered at the man’s hands from every angle, but found no shining trace of blood.

  It was possible, of course, that this man had committed the crime and just worn gloves in order to do so, discarding them later. In such a case, a dense layer of dirt would provide a fine sort of alibi. Geoff glanced at the deckhand again, considering the man’s low breeding and mean countenance. While he knew criminals were by no means stupid as a class—otherwise there would be no need for men like himself—the chances that this deckhand possessed the necessary forethought seemed vanishingly slim.

  “Either way, you’ll be spending time in gaol when we arrive,” he said, holding up the pin. “You say that you found this? If you want to save yourself from a long drop with a swift stop, you had better show me where.”

  The deckhand gave him a hate-filled glare, of which Geoff took no notice. He could almost see the rusty processes of the man’s brain working, taking him to the inevitable conclusion that ten years in a work crew was preferable to dancing at the end of a rope. It took a depressingly long time for him to figure that out. “Fine,” he snarled. “If your boys’ll let me up.”

  Muttering dire curses, the deckhand took them to the staircase, and then led them up two floors. Near the toilets, reserved for use by the passengers, there was a small potted plant on a decorative table. “In here,” he said, pointing at the plant’s pot. Geoff bent to examine it, turning the pot to take advantage of the lamp on the wall; it only took him a moment to find the spot of blood on the inside of the rim. He nodded to himself. “Get him out of my sight,” he said to the guard. “I’ve got no further use for him.”