Her stomach seized as the mechanism in the lock lurched into place, a noticeable click revealing her success. What good was a locked door if a flimsy hairpin was enough to sabotage it? How secure were they on this ship? Had these doors been intentionally designed like this? Unnerving questions boiled to the surface of her mind, and Jax noted she would approach Captain Valhalen about this once he was back on his feet.
Pushing open the cabin door, Jax dashed into the room, closing it behind her. She was startled by the haunting shape of a body lying underneath a white sheet, Monsieur Grandeair resting peacefully on the bare mattress of the bed. She guessed he would remain here for the rest of the voyage, as Master Archer had likely not built a tomb for the ship’s guests. She looked around the lifeless space, wondering what she had hoped to learn here. Had she really expected Carriena to still be standing over the body, laughing at her victory? Shuddering, Jax took a timid step toward the dead man’s figure, reaching a shaking hand out and lifting back the white sheet.
Whomever had arranged the body like this had done so with care. A new shirt had been put on Grandeair, and the dried blood had been wiped from his mouth. His eyes were closed and his features poised so that he appeared to be fast asleep. It was startling how normal he looked, despite being dead for hours. Summoning her courage and her strong stomach, Jax grasped the man’s shoulders, hauling him up to his side. She wanted to assess the wounds for herself, no longer trusting the relationship between Carriena and Hazel. If the High Priestess was colluding with her friend, perhaps she had given Jax misinformation regarding the type of weapon used to end the man’s life.
Monsieur Grandeair’s back was ghastly pale, blue and green veins nearly bulging up under the pasty skin. Gasping back her nausea, Jax studied the gashes, her amethyst eyes begging for answers. The lacerations were indeed small; a large blade could not have struck and torn so little skin. Jax counted the six blemishes across the man’s back, astonished by the viciousness needed to commit such a personal and intimate act. Her eyes landed last on the wound just beneath the left shoulder blade, the one that Hazel said had ended Grandeair’s life, and therefore, the one that had bled out the most. She leaned as close as she dared to, examining the gash, narrowing in on the damaged skin around it. She could almost see the faint trace of a bruise, in the odd shape of a starburst. Jax remembered where she’d seen something like that before. It was a well-known injury in jousting, often resulting in the death of knight bearing it. She and her father would visit the infirmary after a duel to pay their respects to injured or fallen knights. Master Vyanti had explained to her once that the knights could be bruised by the hilt of the blade that ran them through; the Ancient Faith considered it to be a mark of death. At the time, Jax had rolled her eyes at the archaic religion’s beliefs. It would be impossible to escape death after being run through with a sword, all the way up to the hilt; of course, the imprint of the grip would foreshadow demise. But she had learned one valuable thing during those trips— the bruise of the hilt was nearly a perfect silhouette of the top of the weapon’s handle. Looking down at Grandeair’s back, Jax knew that the murder weapon would have a starburst shape where the hilt and blade forged together. Something so unique surely would be easy for her to track down.
Laying the body back as it was and pulling the sheet over it once more, Jax backed away from the corpse, rushing to the basin to scrub her hands free of death. As she plunged her hands repeatedly into the porcelain bowl of water, the starburst pattern circled foremost in her mind. Once she dried her hands on her skirts, she quietly dipped out into the hallway, debating where to look first. Hazel had said the weapon could have been a dinner knife, so she decided to check the galley for any evidence.
The kitchen staff scrambled to tidy themselves up at the presence of the Duchess as she walked fluidly into the room, which steamed with heat despite the windows being open. Jax guessed the stagnant sea breeze affected the circulation of air in the belly of the ship as well as the sails.
A tall, mustached man in a stained apron approached her curiously, his beady eyes blinking back the sweat stemming from underneath the rim of his chef’s hat. “Greetings, Your Grace. May we assist you with something?”
Jax realized she was speaking to the famed Monsieur Devoyier, a Savant commoner who had cooked for the nation’s ducal table. “Is that our luncheon I see bubbling? It smells divine,” she said, taking a moment to appreciate the glorious aromas wafting around her. “I do have a request. It may sound a bit odd, but I’d like to look at the silverware the guests have been using.” Jax paused, searching for an excuse. “I’m considering redesigning one of my retreats in Saphire, and I’d like to see if I can get any inspiration for the banquet room.”
If he thought her explanation odd, Monsieur Devoyier masked it with precision. “Of course, Duquessa. Please, right this way,” he said, leading her into a side room containing two huge cabinets. “The linens for the table are in this drawer,” the chef said, motioning accordingly, “and the dining sets are in the two top ones.” He bowed with a flourish and left Jax to examine her options.
Pulling open the first compartment underneath the glass case showing stacks of golden rimmed plates, Jax scanned the contents. She counted four styles of dinnerware, each set containing thirty-three forks, spoons, and knives. Jax guessed that was the seating capacity of the long, gleaming dining table. None of the knives appeared to have a handle matching the starburst imprint she’d found on the murdered man’s back.
Closing the drawer with a disappointed thud, she heaved out the one directly below it. This compartment was crammed full of shining metals, Jax counting six assorted styles. Her eyes settled on the set lying farthest to the right, displaying handles that were molded into the shape of an eight-pointed star where the blade merged with the grip. Picking one up to examine it closer, Jax immediately knew as she looked down the length of the short blade that the bruising around the banker’s wound mirrored the sight in front of her now. A rush of excitement thundered through her veins, Jax leaned in to count the knives in the starburst set. Thirty-two rested in the drawer. One was indeed missing. This was the murder weapon! “Excuse me,” she called back into the kitchen. When one of the ship’s pursers rushed over to her side, she asked, “Have we used this particular set thus far during the voyage?”
“Not in the formal dining room, Your Grace,” the young man answered without pause. “However, we did serve a light lunch to the guests who arrived before we set sail from Tandora. I believe this was the set we used.”
Jax felt her pulse quicken. “Do you happen to remember who attended that luncheon, by any chance?”
The assistant clicked his tongue, trying to bring forth the memory. “I believe it was nearly all of Lady Carriena’s guests, save the Saphire party, as Your Grace did not arrive until later in the afternoon.”
Her enthusiasm dimmed at this news. The man was telling her what she already knew; that all the other passengers were still suspect. Nevertheless, she thanked him for the information and left the galley in search of Perry and George to share what she had learned. As she ascended the stairs to the main deck, she prayed to the Virtues that Captain Solomon had uncovered something while speaking to the ship’s crew. Otherwise, she was afraid all her leads were taking them toward a dismal dead end.
Chapter Nine
“No one saw or heard anything? How is that possible?” Jax cried in frustration, flinging her arms up in the air as she paced around her suite. “Do you think they were telling the truth?” She turned, facing the Captain of the Ducal Guard.
“Yes, I do,” George replied from his perch on one of the sitting room chairs. “This boat is built with sturdy, dense wood. The walls are thick. I’m inclined to believe they wouldn’t have heard anything, especially if the crew was asleep. They are working incredibly hard to keep the passengers happy and the ship looking regal and refined. No doubt they are all exhausted by the time they’re back in their rooms.”
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�Hendrie and I agree,” Uma said. “We’ve heard them complaining, for lack of a better word, when we’re down in the kitchen filling up the water buckets. They may be tired and overworked, but the crew and staff have been so kind to us. I hardly think any of them are capable of murder, or even stealing. Besides,” she added, “the guards saw no one enter or leave the passageway. How could anyone from the service quarters sneak past two alert guards twice without them noticing?”
Jax thought back briefly to her miscalculation of Lady Giovanna leaving Charles’s room. But even then, she’d still seen the young woman in the hallway. Uma was right; there was no way for someone to sneak past. “Then that leaves us with someone entering Grandeair’s room from the balcony.”
Perry leaned forward in the chair he was sitting in. “Jax, I know it pains you to think about it, but would Carriena have anything to gain by murdering a banker?”
Jax crossed her arms, her forehead wrinkling with deep thought. “Her father was bringing Monsieur Grandeair to their duchy to review the treasury. The Duke has been concerned with the nation’s finances. Why would Carriena want to stop that?”
Hendrie cleared his throat from the corner. “Perhaps Lady Carriena is the reason behind the treasury’s issues?”
“You think she could be stealing from her own duchy?” Captain Solomon looked shocked by the notion.
Jax, too, felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “I can’t see a reason why she would feel the need to steal. It makes no sense.”
“Perhaps she was funneling the money to someone else?” Perry suggested, putting his hands together as he reasoned out a motive.
“Let’s for a moment assume that Carriena was not involved with this. For Virtue’s sake, her birthday is tomorrow!” Jax pointed out to the assembled group. “Who on board could have dropped down from the top deck onto Grandeair’s balcony?”
“Don’t forget, this person would also have had to have climbed back up to the top deck to escape detection. Then there’s the whole issue of how they got back into their own rooms,” George said, his dark eyes reminding Jax of all the contributing factors, his logic unwavering.
“All right, then. Let’s see. First, who is physically able to accomplish such a feat?” Jax questioned aloud, thinking of the guests she’d met over the past few days.
“Master Archer, for one. And he has intimate knowledge of the layout of the boat,” Uma offered.
“Both Vincent and Hazel are strong and lithe. I’m sure neither would have any trouble making the climb,” Perry said.
“I haven’t seen Hazel wear anything suitable for climbing,” Jax countered.
Perry shrugged. “Perhaps she wore a pair of Vincent’s trousers?”
“I’d wager a guess that Charles could do it, and being a physician, he’d know exactly where to stab someone to ensure they bled to death quickly.” Captain Solomon scratched his growing beard, as if imaging the lanky young man wielding a deadly weapon.
“All right, now which one those four has a room with a balcony of its own? They would have needed to climb out from their room, up to the main deck, then drop themselves down onto Grandeair’s landing.” As Jax voiced the theory, she realized how silly it all sounded. She was making her friends exert their sharp minds on a scenario that was nearly impossible.
She could tell from the blank faces in the room that they knew it was fruitless, but humored her anyway.
“I reviewed drawings of the ship’s layout earlier today with Felipe and Alonso, the guards who watch the upper deck staterooms during the night,” George reported. “Rooms five, six, nine, and ten are all equipped with balconies of various sizes.”
“Grandeair is in cabin nine,” Jax said. She thought back to the dimly lit image of the passenger manifest Diego had held in his hands the other day. “Giovanna is in cabin five, Hazel is across from her in cabin six, and Charles is in ten.”
“Based on our physical assessment, that narrows it down to Hazel or Charles,” Perry said grimly.
“Both have intimate knowledge of the human anatomy, which means they would know where to strike their victim,” Jax murmured, thinking back to how Hazel interacted with the dead body. “But if that’s the case, why would they have stabbed Grandeair five more times if they knew the first blow would have killed him?”
Uma wrung her hands together, coming to Jax’s side. “Maybe their passion and bloodlust momentarily overrode reason?”
Jax nodded, understanding her lady’s maid’s words, but she did not agree. The thought that young, naïve Charles or serene, religious Hazel was a killer was almost more farfetched than Carriena committing the crime. Then there was the question of where the theft of Lady Florence’s brooch and the poisoning of Captain Valhalen fit in. “I’m at a loss, I’m afraid,” Jax sighed, her shoulders sagging under the immense pressure. “We must be missing something.” She suddenly looked over to Perry. “Have you found anything of use in Grandeair’s ledger?”
Any hope she had crumbled when Perry shook his head of chaotic dark curls. “Nothing. Not a single name rings any bells. If it did, we’d have our killer. The amount that man forced people to pay him in return was murder itself. Truth be told, I’m surprised he lived as long as he did,” Perry said, a bleak chuckle dying on his lips.
Jax ran a hand through her hair, getting a fingernail caught in a ringlet. “All right, well, since I’m absolutely useless, I suggest we all return to our rooms and prepare for dinner. I’m famished; I’m sorry I forced you all to miss lunch for this pointless session.” The Duchess dismissed her companions, going over to her window overlooking the silent sea. The wind was as elusive as the truth.
“Jax,” Perry said, his hand touching her shoulder, “you’re not absolutely useless. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself to get to the bottom of this. You’re a Duchess, remember. No one expects you to solve every puzzle that comes your way.” His lavender eyes pooled with sincerity.
His words hurt her deeply, as much as she hated to admit it. He didn’t believe that she could figure this out, that the mystery was too great for her pretty little mind. She knew he had meant to comfort her, but she pushed him away, her pride sore. “I’d like some time alone with my thoughts, Lord Pettraud, if you please.” She extended her hand sharply toward the door.
Perry’s eyes crinkled with unmasked sadness as he backed away. “As you command, Duchess,” he said with a curt bow, leaving the room silent in his wake.
Uma stood awkwardly by the washroom door, unsure it was her place to speak. “Shall I fill the bath for you, my lady?” she asked with a halting shyness Jax remembered from their early days together.
Putting a palm against her forehead to simmer her frustrations, Jax nodded, fearing she would snap if she spoke. She’d hurt Perry intentionally, and now Uma was tiptoeing around her like they weren’t close companions. It was as if this voyage was determined to drive her mad.
Dressed in a pale green silk gown, her golden crown jewels resting on her plaited hair, Jax glided into the dining hall for the evening’s meal. Everyone was already engaged in conversation, as Jax had taken a brief detour on her way from her suite. She had stood on the ship’s bow, looking up the stars, the night sky an endless canopy of twinkling light. The lavender-scented bath water had done her good, and the majestic sky had helped empty and refocus her mind. Walking into the banquet hall now, she took a moment to walk next to Perry and squeeze his shoulder before going to her seat. She hoped she conveyed her regrets in the simple gesture, and the impishly charming look on his face told her she had as she sat down across from him.
“Tonight, we raise a glass to our dearly departed Monsieur Grandeair,” Carriena lamented. “May the Virtues take care of his soul.” She raised a goblet in the shadows of the chandelier.
“To Grandeair!” A chorus of mournful voices responded, each guest taking a long drink of their mead. Jax and her party all waited until everyone else had swallowed before pulling the drink through their lips.
As if a flame had burst into existence, everyone’s mood suddenly shifted into a more jovial atmosphere. Jogan had joined the table this evening, likely in place of his father, and was entertaining the group with stories of pirates and fierce storms he had sailed through in his youth. Jax listened with fascination, never having encountered a real live pirate before, but she knew the wilds of the Cetachi region were home to some of the most infamous and bloodthirsty hordes. Everyone seemed taken by the bold tales, with a flurry of questions peppering Jogan’s descriptions.
Only Carriena seemed a bit subdued, hardly engaging in the evening. “Is everything all right?” Jax asked, with both concern for her friend and the possibility that she might uncover something useful to her pitiful investigation.
Carriena sighed, her cheek resting on a balled fist. “Jogan makes pirates seem so glamorous when they are nothing more than murderous brutes. They’ve been ransacking our seaside villages for the past few months,” she sneered to no one in particular. “Rose of the Sea is not the only ship my father has had recently commissioned. We’re in the process of building up our armada so that we can avenge our ravaged shores. So many of my people have lost everything because of those bastards. And he makes it sound like meeting them was fun!”
Jax was surprised by the surge of emotion Carriena displayed. For one who did not seem to care about ruling her duchy, she did obviously care deeply for her people. “I’m sure Jogan is just trying to keep everyone’s mind off the fact that a dead man lies down the hall from their sleeping quarters.”
A Voyage of Vengeance Page 9