Murder on the Titania and Other Steam-Powered Adventures

Murder on the Titania and Other Steam-Powered Adventures

Alex Acks

Contents

Murder on the Titania

The Curious Case of Miss Clementine Nimowitz (And Her Exceedingly Tiny Dog)

The Jade Tiger

The Ugly Tin Orrery

The Flying Turk

About the Author

About QUEEN OF SWORDS PRESS

Copyright

Copyright © 2018 by Alex Acks

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people or current events is purely coincidental.

Queen of Swords Press LLC, Minneapolis, MN

www.queenofswordpress.com

Published in the United States

Cover Design By: KaNaXa Design

Murder on the Titania, The Curious Case of Miss Clementine Nimowitz (And Her Exceedingly Tiny Dog) The Jade Tiger and The Ugly Tin Orrery all previously appeared in Sausages, Steam and the Bad Thing by Rachael Acks. Musa Publishing, 2015.

ISBN: 978-0-9981082-8-5

Murder on the Titania

The airship Titania , jewel of Her Royal Highness the Grand Duchess Sophronia Victoria Saint-Clair of New York’s fleet, floated above the murky Manhattan skyline, tethered to the spire of the Empire State Building by a set of thin ropes and a ramp made of deceptively delicate-looking beams of brass etched to look like lace. Within the Titania’s observation deck stood Colonel Geoffrey Douglas, decorated soldier, veteran of the Canadian front, and newly hired Chief of Security for His Royal Highness, the Grand Duke of Denver. Geoff was a man of action and daring by his very nature; it grated on him to be trapped within a cage, even one made with lush carpeting to go with the steel and glass. He drummed his fingers on the brass railing that edged the deck and watched as cranes belching columns of steam loaded the last of the cargo.

A porter threaded through the crates, head low and shoulders hunched. Geoff tensed, hand firm on the railing as the man approached the set of crates bearing the seal of the Grand Duke. The porter’s hands fluttered furtively at his pockets, and Geoff smoothed one hand down his jacket, pausing at the reassuring shape of his service revolver, but all the porter produced was a cheroot and nothing more offensive.

The porter continued on without pause, glancing over his shoulder as he smoked while on duty. Geoff blew a sigh out through his neatly trimmed officers mustache and went back to drumming his fingers.

He longed to be in the thick of things, making certain that all was in place, that not a single order had gone astray. One did not leave the placement of a fortune in custom-made jewelry, the wedding set for the Grand Duke’s only daughter, to the vagaries of chance. But like many other great houses, the Grand Duke’s had been troubled by thieves and pirates—clever ones at that—and Geoff’s healthy sense of paranoia had been shrieking that his every move might be watched from the moment he’d picked the jewelry up.

Even worse, shortly before he’d picked up the jewelry he’d received worrying intelligence that the most dastardly of the Grand Duke’s enemies, a Captain Ramos, may even have been spotted just north of the Duchy of Charlotte, far from his normal Western stomping grounds—suspiciously proximal to Geoff’s current location. And with North America divided as it was, into bickering sovereign grand duchies and a scattering of smaller client domains dotting the continental wasteland, getting security information, let alone cooperation from other generals or security chiefs was an exercise in frustration.

Sir?

He glanced over his shoulder at the steward, who waited behind him, clad in an impeccable, deep indigo coat. The steward touched his cap with great deference.

Yes? Geoff straightened, squaring his shoulders. He was not a large man, but he was accustomed to command and knew the use of a stern carriage to command respect. He still maintained his light brown hair in military trim as well; he thought it provided a subtle reminder that he was not to be trifled with.

Just wanted to let you know, sir, we’ve finished loading all of your baggage.

And you’ve sent the safe to my room?

Yes, sir. Saw to it myself.

Geoff nodded and pulled his watch from his vest pocket to check the time. Will we be underway soon?

Yes, sir. There’s just a little loading left to do, and the doctor’s making his final rounds. We’ll be casting off right on schedule.

Glad to hear it.

Ah, and speak of the devil, sir…

Geoff turned to face the man who had descended to the deck. He was tall and thin, with dirty blond hair that gave his clean-shaven face a sallow cast. His jacket was a sober, dark brown and his shirt collar was impeccably starched.

Excuse me, Geoff said, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure before. Colonel Geoffrey Douglas, formerly of Her Royal Highness Luella’s Expeditionary Forces.

Dr. Matthew Lehmacher, the man said, followed by a polite bow. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I’m doing the final passenger inspection.

Of course.

Thank you. The doctor closed the distance between them and took a small brass-rimmed magnifying lens from his pocket. His prominent brow and sharp nose made his expression overly serious as he peered through the lens into Geoff’s gray eyes. He twisted the outer rim of the glass back and forth a few times, tinting it from blue to amber and back, then nodded to himself. And if I may check your pulse, Colonel?

Geoff offered the doctor his left wrist. I trust everything is in order?

No sign of Infection, I’m pleased to say. The doctor smiled, wrapping cold fingers around Geoff’s wrist for a few seconds. And you seem pleasingly alive, in case you were concerned.

He chuckled. How comforting. I often worry I might’ve become exanimate without noticing. I trust the other passengers have fared just as well?

They have, by the grace of God. The words sounded like a recitation rather than a true expression of relief. He extracted a list from his pocket, scanning over it quickly. And it seems that you were my last appointment, Colonel. This ship is stuffed to the gills, so to speak, but I’ve seen everyone at last. He turned toward the steward, still at the door. Please let the captain know that I’ve completed my inspection and we are able to proceed.

Yes, sir! The steward disappeared up the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the expensive burgundy carpet that covered the metal decking.

Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t quite look the part of ship’s doctor, Geoff said.

Quite observant, Colonel; I’m certainly no man of the Navy. I’m actually a passenger, myself, but was called on to perform this duty.

Geoff nodded. I see. Well, I hope that you’ll find Denver agreeable.

It’s been two years since I last visited, but unless it’s changed drastically I think I’ll find it quite agreeable. The doctor’s smile edged toward sly. And if I may ask…I noticed that you’re His Grace’s Chief of Security. A bit far afield, are you not?

A bit. In my case, most decidedly on business. More than that, I am not at liberty to say. Geoff examined the man’s face carefully, trying to find the source of that slyness. He’d found Denver agreeable before, but for what? Most likely the statement was innocent, the interest in Geoff’s role likewise innocent, but that curiosity prickled at senses already on edge.

Ah, I understand. I didn’t mean to pry.

Geoff nodded, though before he could speak, the sound of a gong being struck three times echoed through the ship. Oh, at last. While he respected the Grand Duchy of New York for its rich history, and at times, overly rich culture, he would be happy to leave it behind. The air was no less smoky in the wide valley that housed Denver, but at least it lacked the ever-present humidity that made New York’s chemical fog a living, malevolent presence.

The doctor moved forward to look out the windows as the Titania cast off her moorings and lifted away from the spire of the Empire State Building. Not to worry, Colonel. In twenty-four hours, you’ll be safely home. With luck, there will even be some decent entertainment to be had between now and then.

With luck, Geoff agreed as he watched the last of the skyscrapers fall away under the haze of distance and humidity. They’ve filled the tennis courts and the theater with cargo, but I have heard that the string quartet is still in residence at least.

Perhaps a little after dinner dancing? I couldn’t help but notice a number of our fellow passengers are unattached females.

Geoff laughed, shaking his head. Not much of a dancer, I’m afraid, he said, tapping his cane on the floor. I don’t just carry this for fashion. But I still enjoy the music.

Oh, I see. The doctor nodded wisely. Childhood mishap, or…?

War injury, I’m afraid. Canadian front. Mishap would be the far kinder answer for them both, but Geoff was not a man given to dishonesty for the sake of something so transient as social comfort.

Oh. I hadn’t realized…

Quite all right, Doctor.

Simply a break?

The continued curiosity, while understandable, was most unwelcome. Geoff cleared his throat, not wanting the man to imagine a leg twisted and scored by burns as a legacy of the removal of infected flesh. A bad break.

Surely they took better care of you brave boys than that.

They did the best they could, but it was in days before we turned the tide, and resources were limited. Surviving those difficult months had earned him his share of medals and glory, not that those could replace full use of a leg. Geoff cleared his throat, posture going a bit stiff.

My apologies, Colonel. I ought not to have pried, but professional curiosity will get the better of me every time. I don’t suppose there’s anything… He reached out to rest his hand on Geoff’s shoulder.

Geoff stared at that hand until the doctor moved it away. I manage well enough, so long as the criminal and mischievous aren’t overly swift. It was Dr. Lehmacher’s turn to clear his throat in a bit of awkward conversational punctuation. I’ll make sure to take in an extra dance or two in your honor then. It’s a decent enough excuse.

While all accommodations on the Titania were luxurious by Geoff’s personal standards, he was in one of the smaller interior cabins, which shared toilet facilities. Still, the furniture was rich and comfortable, and the royal-blue carpet obviously new; the cabin smelled faintly of the dye that had been used on it. The small safe he’d brought on board made a strange sort of end table next to the narrow bed that took up one wall, a perfect place for his brandy snifter. He busied himself until dinner by reading a book he’d picked up in New York, a collection of fascinating essays about how humanity might have progressed without the scourge of Infection throwing society into disarray. When it was time to get dressed, he took out his dinner suit, a sober, charcoal-gray cloth with a woolen vest of forest green reminiscent of his Expeditionary Forces uniform.

The doors to the dining room were open when he arrived, the passengers already moving to their seats with all seemly haste. Inside, portraits done in oils graced the richly papered walls, with the Grand Duchess of New York occupying the place of honor. A steward carefully directed Geoff to his seat at one of the lesser tables, five of its six seats already taken. He recognized one of the occupants immediately.

Dr. Lehmacher rose to his feet. Ah, Colonel, I had hoped you’d be joining us all for dinner. He smiled, pointing to the chair next to him. Our numbers are a bit uneven, but I hope you’ll find this seat acceptable.

"Of course. The cook on the Titania is without compare, and I would hate to miss out on making the acquaintance of my fellow travelers."

Please, allow me to introduce you, Lehmacher said, turning toward the couple who were to his left along the round table. Colonel Geoffrey Douglas, may I present my dear friends, Lord and Lady Caraway of Manhattan.

He bowed to the Lord and kissed the lady’s hand, as was appropriate. Lord Caraway was a younger man, his black cheeks cleanly shaven, his dark, tightly curled hair barely under control in the absence of a hat. A golden pin, shaped like an owl, sat on the right lapel of his jacket. He wore a dark suit with a deep red silk vest; his lady was dressed similarly in black and red, a string of gemstones laced through her hair. The lady was small and thin, her dark brown hair making her face look even paler by comparison. Still, she smiled prettily at Geoff when he kissed her hand.

Professor David Jefferson, fresh from a guest lecturing stint in Berlin, the doctor continued, introducing the man to Lord Caraway’s left. He’s traveling to your home duchy to give a series of public lectures on chemistry, I believe.

Indeed, the professor said. He was an older gentleman, his white hair and beard neatly trimmed. I promise not to lecture during dinner tonight, however.

Dr. Lehmacher indicated the lady who would be at Geoff’s right, sandwiched between him and the professor. And this is Miss Isadora Alvarez of Santa Fe.

The woman, barely more than a girl, giggled nervously as Geoff took her hand. She was pretty enough, her rich brown hair trying to escape from a feathered headband to sweep across the lighter skin of her neck. Her dress was a rather unfortunate pale blue, however, and showed her to be surprisingly plump for her young age. Please, Colonel, feel free to call me Dory. Her voice was high and breathy. Even if we’re only to be traveling companions for a day, there’s no need to be so formal.

As you wish, Miss Dory. Geoff didn’t care for the overly familiar way she spoke, but he was not so cruel as to censure a young lady in public.

Dr. Lehmacher has told us that you’re His Grace’s chief of security, Lord Caraway said. That sounds like a rather exciting job.

A bit. Though I’ve only recently been brought in to his service.

Isn’t it dangerous? Dory asked, her hands fluttering nervously before she clasped them in front of her chest. I’ve heard there are all sorts of awful people about.

Perhaps there’s a little danger. Geoff smiled kindly. But I think that risks must be taken if order is to prevail. Most of the criminals that might threaten the Grand Duke are, to put it bluntly, simple hooligans. The former chief of security became a bit complacent, I fear. But that will change.

And besides, Dr. Lehmacher said, I can’t imagine any danger from thieves compares to what you saw on the Canadian Front.

Damn the man anyway. Geoff cleared his throat, ducking his chin slightly as Lady Caraway and Dory exclaimed over that revelation. Perhaps. I’m certain I shall soon find out. Professor, if you don’t mind me asking, which area of chemistry do you find of interest? He had no desire to speak of an uncomfortable past, and hoped the professor would be kind enough to act as a diversion.

All areas, of course! the professor said, laughing. In particular, I am interested in the nature of things biochemical as they can be applied to modern medicine. That is, in fact, how Dr. Lehmacher and I came to be acquainted. He attended my home university. As did Lord Caraway, actually; I introduced the gentlemen.

A long-standing set of friendships, then.

Oh indeed. The stories I could tell. The professor tilted his wine glass and smiled impishly. And well might, yet.

Lucky for the delicate ears of the ladies and the tender state of my pride, they’re bringing food to stop your mouth, Dr. Lehmacher said, laughing.

The first course was oxtail soup and oysters, brought out by a bevy of waiters in neat white coats. Whatever her other flaws, Dory’s table manners were impeccable; Geoff felt slightly ashamed at the quick stab of relief that ran through him at that.

Miss Dory, he said, I know that Dr. Lehmacher had said you were from Santa Fe, but I can’t help but notice you’re a bit far from home now.

Oh, yes, Colonel. My parents thought it best I become a little more worldly, so they sent me to school abroad. But now that I’ve been engaged to a gentleman of good standing, it’s most definitely time for me to return home. She giggled, though not too loudly.

How delightful. Which school did you attend?

With half an ear, he listened to her chatter about the plays she had seen in Europe and the museums she had gone to, her voice melding in with the sound of the string quartet tucked away in one corner of the dining room. He was far more curious about the Caraways. Lord Caraway spoke a great deal to the professor and doctor both; their mutual enthusiasm seemed to be about all things scientific, particularly the new generators being designed that would apparently revolutionize the protection of farm fields. Lady Caraway said little and only picked at her food, lips going paler and thinner with each passing moment as the men shamelessly ignored her. While male enthusiasm for certain topics was understandable, Geoff quite disapproved of the overt rudeness of it; surely they could have waited until after dinner when it was time for brandy and cigars.

As the second course was delivered, Geoff attempted to engage the lady in conversation. Did you attend university as well? While it was unusual, it wasn’t unheard of for ladies to take a few classes in the more academically gentle areas to aid them in finding eligible men of their social stratum.

I did not, I’m afraid, Lady Caraway said, shoulders relaxing slightly. Though I had a bit of private tutoring in literature. Poetry is where I excelled.

Dory, listening in, giggled. Oh, so you did not know what sort of horrid school friends you’d be getting along with your husband?

Lady Caraway’s lips went thin, her face pale. Excuse me, she said, rising. I don’t feel well. The men at the table barely had time to stand before she rushed from the dining room.

Will your wife be all right? Geoff asked as they all sat back down.

I think so, Lord Caraway said. She sometimes finds air travel disagreeable. My theory is that she’s unusually susceptible to changes in atmospheric pressure. He inclined his head toward Dr. Lehmacher. Though sir, if you would be so kind as to look in on her later, we would both be greatly obliged.

Of course. As soon as dinner has finished.

Oh, I hope she’ll be all right, Dory said quietly. You don’t think it was what I said, do you?

I’m certain that she will be. And I’m certain not, when it was such a mild joke about merry gentlemen. Though I am sure she appreciates your well wishes. Would you care for some wine? Soon he had the table drinking a toast to the lady’s good health. Only Geoff wasn’t so certain that it was a question of health; the lady hadn’t looked so much ill as deeply upset.

Geoff sat up with a gasp, disoriented for a moment in the darkness, recognizing neither the bed nor the thin strip of light leaking in under the door. He heard only snapping tree branches, the crack of distant guns, shouts, and screams as the Infected slammed into his company’s defensive lines.

No, he realized, those sounds were in his mind, mixed with someone pounding frantically at his door, rescuing him from a thoroughly unpleasant dream. He took three deep breaths to calm himself and then felt along the wall to find the lamp and turn it back on.

A moment, he shouted. A moment if you please. I’m awake. Let me make myself decent. He slipped from bed and quickly dressed. His shirt was rumpled, collar and cuffs undone, and his tie nowhere to be found, but he deemed it good enough for the ungodly hour.

There was a young officer other side of the door, face pale, ginger hair disheveled. His uniform had a lieutenant’s stripes on the shoulder.

What is so important that it couldn’t wait for a decent hour? Geoff demanded.

Something awful’s happened, sir. Captain told me to fetch you quick as I could—

Is it my luggage?

The lieutenant shook his head, swallowing hard. No, sir, it isn’t. It’s much worse.

Geoff nodded and dug his lorgnette from his traveling case. The little device was rather battered and showing its age, but still serviceable. Then you’d best show me the way, Lieutenant…?

Collins, sir.

Geoff followed Lieutenant Collins along several hallways and down two flights of stairs. Soon they were at the top of another set of stairs, these a plain metal that clearly led down to the crew quarters.

There was a small crowd gathered at the bottom of the stairs, most of them dressed in the uniforms of the crew or servants. More to Geoff’s interest, there was a body sprawled untidily across the deck plates, a pool of dark red spread out in a halo from the back of its head. The head itself was turned at an unnatural angle, far back and to the side.

It took only a moment for his sleep-muzzled mind to place who it was at the bottom of the stairs: Lord Caraway. It made little sense for the man to be in this area of the ship, but the truth was inescapable: he was very much there and very much dead.

Move away, Geoff said, carefully descending the stairs without touching the railings, Lieutenant Collins at his heels. All of you, move. Be about your business. He used the same tone that had once made hardened soldiers snap to; it had the desired effect and most of the gawkers scattered down the hallway.

He stepped over the body, carefully skirting the pool of liquid blood, its color still fresh and vibrant, and squatted down painfully to take a better look at what had once been Lord Caraway. The earthy smell was still far too reminiscent of the soup of blood and dirt that he’d waded through in battlefield after battlefield in the wilds of Canada, and it turned his stomach.

He had to remind himself that there should be no possibility of Infection; Dr. Lehmacher had cleared everyone before takeoff. Besides, the fall had clearly destroyed the unfortunate lord’s head. Still, Geoff lifted the lorgnette to his face after snapping the red and blue filters into place. Much to his relief, the blood looked normal, rather than alive with Infection. Unfortunately, anything of use to answering this mystery with ease was merciless in its absence. No stray hairs, odd fingerprints, or otherwise essential pieces of evidence