14 February 1875 of the 6th Era, The Iron Giant

  Charlotte stood at the entrance to Ms Glancy’s compartment, gloomily examining the state of absolute chaos that the room was in. The carriage attendant stood at an awkward distance away from her, his face even paler than hers, and seemingly on the verge of fainting. However, one attentive enough could also spot nervous curiosity peeking through this veil of sheer terror.

  “Is Ms Glancy’s room usually this messy?” She held back a yawn.

  Getting woken up at seven because of a murder was not her idea of a good morning to begin with. At first, she just wanted to go back to sleep. Even tried to remind the attendant that there were enough people aboard the train to deal with these matters, but in vain. She heard Mr Holmes’ apologetic voice, informing her that whatever ended Ms Glancy’s life was in some way tied to necromancy. And it just so happened that she was the only exorcist on this train. The only one with enough experience to deal with this matter. And the one who both Mr Holmes and Mr Placek instantly backed. The elderly dwarf, as it turned out, remembered her quite well and rather fondly.

  At least she wasn’t alone in this. Antony “overheard the commotion and got curious as to what the fuss was about”, and then “insisted on joining her”. Now, he was standing next to her and doing his best not to follow her lead and yawn. An uphill battle that he was set to lose from the very beginning.

  It was just the three of them in the entire carriage, as the other passengers had been asked to temporarily move to the restaurant cart, where Mr Holmes, Mr Placek, and Cardinal Whitesand were keeping an eye on them. Following the examination, Ms Glancy’s body had been moved to the carriage previously occupied by Charlotte’s father, as he agreed to spend the rest of the trip sharing the space with Mr Perkins. At least it was only another eight hours till Stolberg.

  “No, my lady. On the two occasions I brought her tea, it was the exact opposite. I… think she was very particular about keeping the space neat and tidy,” he hesitated, but, as Charlotte continued to bluntly stare at him, added, “I recall her rearranging the Sending Scrolls until their corners were perfectly aligned.”

  “Do you know if she used any?”

  “She did ask for additional ones, so possibly. We placed ten of these in every compartment, and provided her with five more,” he hurried to add, “so you can see if there are any extras scattered around here.”

  “Thank you.”

  Charlotte briefly closed her eyes, recalling Ms Glancy’s behaviour at the table yesterday, but failed to remember anything similar. She did not care one bit about the neatness of her plates, nor did she try to rearrange the knives and forks while they were waiting for food. Come to think of it, her clothes, too, were somewhat messy. In a decisively artistic way.

  “Was it the entire room or just the writing desk that she tried to keep neat?”

  “I think this question is best addressed to Ms Enquist. She does the beds in this carriage.”

  Charlotte nodded. All of the daily cleaning and maintenance was indeed done by servants aboard the train. Even those who were in private carriages only had their secretaries and personal attendants with them.

  “Anything that might be missing?”

  “I fear I wouldn’t know,” he took a step forward and peered into the room. He frowned as he tried to concentrate on the details, but quickly gave up. “She never had any personal items out.”

  “Alright. I will call you if I have any more questions,” she looked at Antony, but he only shook his head, covering his mouth with his hand. The battle was lost. “For now, could you find Ms Enquist and ask her to go to the lounge?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Once they were alone, Antony reached out, touching the door and closing his eyes.

  “Not much I can tell you apart from what Cardinal Whitesand has already stated. Died a bit before midnight, and whoever caused the mess came around four in the morning. They used some form of concealment. I can only make out the general silhouette. Human, elf, hobgoblin… All I can say is not a dwarf. Probably. And… Ugh, they came from the tail end of the train, but this only allows us to cross out the people in this carriage from the list of suspects. Sorry I cannot be of more help.”

  “Are you alright? You look like you’re–”

  “About to part with the contents of my stomach?” Antony opened his eyes and took a step back, sitting down in the corridor and pressing his back against the wall, trying to get his balance back. “Because I am. The image was doubling and tripling because the train is moving. As you can probably guess, I've never tried this before.”

  “Not even on a boat?” Charlotte sat down in front of him and placed her hand on his forehead.

  “Oddly enough, no. Never had any need or desire,” he took a deep breath, enjoying the chilling sensation. “Thank you. Going back to what I managed to glean, they were searching for something, but I don’t think they found what they were looking for. Left on their own without alerting anyone, obviously, considering that her body was discovered a bit before seven.”

  “The soundproofing is good, but not that good.”

  “I agree.”

  The two of them got up and continued looking around the room. Whoever went through Ms Glancy’s belongings, did so thoroughly. The drawers from the writing desk, the storage compartment, the hidden wardrobe were all emptied out, and the contents were lying scattered on every other surface. The suitcase, Charlotte noticed, had been not only emptied, but the lining was ripped with a knife. It was as if someone was trying to see if there was a hidden pocket.

  “We can assume it was something on the smaller side,” Antony pointed towards Ms Glancy’s winter coat, which was turned inside out. Same went for the pockets in several of her skirts.

  “Looks like it. Her valuables and money are still here, it seems, unless it’s something specific that was taken. I never paid attention to any necklaces or earrings she wore,” Charlotte picked up a jewellery box and examined it. From what she could tell, the pieces were on the cheaper side, and some of the stones looked a tad too shiny. Still, at least one of the rings looked like proper gold and saphire. “She did use Sending Scrolls. I counted eight so far.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Same.”

  Next to the box was Ms Glancy’s wallet with a dozen or so gold pounds in it. While the culprit had clearly gone through the contents of the box and subjected it to the same scrutiny as the suitcase, they seemed to have had no interest in the wallet, the way it was lying on the floor.

  “So whatever it was, it was small enough to fit in a pocket of a winter coat or a jewellery box, but clearly not small enough to fit inside a wallet,” Charlotte finally concluded. “Though we cannot be sure if the one looking through her things is the one who killed her. Anything on your end?”

  “I fear not,” Antony put down the suitcase he had been examining. “I can tell you what I don’t see. A planner. And I recall she had a small notebook when she was talking to Alex yesterday.”

  “She did, yes. She wrote down ideas for her poems in it,” Charlotte, too, remembered the gilded binding and the thick, heavy paper. Back then, she found it quite odd that Ms Glancy would use something like that. The way the woman dressed and behaved, she more readily imagined her writing on napkins and whatever stray newspapers happened to be nearby. Then again, she only knew a handful of poets, and all of them were on the eccentric side. Compared to them, Ms Glancy was boredom incarnate. Well, she and Lord Miles. Had he lived in this day and age, the two of them surely would have found a lot in common.

  The two of them once again went through Ms Glancy’s belongings, now looking for the notebook, but came up with nothing.

  “Come to think of it… If the attendant told the truth and Ms Glancy really did like things neat and tidy, the notebook might have disappeared before that. There were a few things scattered around the room when they came.”

  “And no one came before them?”

  He shook his head, “No, unless it’s someone or something I cannot see. And you know that very few things would land in that list.”

  “Let’s talk to the maid responsible for this carriage and then reunite with Mr Holmes and Professor O’Neill. See if they heard something,” Charlotte only chuckled at his statement.

  ******

  Ms Enquist turned out to be a pleasant elderly woman, charmingly plump, with fair skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. The caring type, quite attentive and devoted to her work. Unfortunately, she was not able to help much outside of confirming the attendant’s statement. Ms Glancy was indeed very orderly. She preferred to do the bed herself, only letting Ms Enquist and the other maids sweep the floors. Also, for whatever reason she was very averse to anyone touching the desk, not even to clean the dust.

  She did not notice any changes in Ms Glancy’s behaviour yesterday, nor could she say if there was a particular place Ms Glancy did not want the cleaners to access. Ms Enquist did remember that one time when she was cleaning the room, Ms Glancy got a trifle nervous because she had her notebook lying open on the desk. She even snatched it away at one point, as if she were afraid Ms Enquist would see what was written inside. When Antony enquired if Ms Enquist had any idea what that could have been, she fell silent for a good minute. Then, in a very unsure voice, replied that she saw a list of names and some weird marks next to them. Unfortunately, her vision was not the best these days, nor did she get to see the list for long enough to even attempt to read anything. Not that she wanted to read anything to begin with, of course, as the clients’ privacy and comfort were a top priority for her and any other member of the staff. Antony and Charlotte then hurried to reassure her that the thought of her overstepping any boundaries never even crossed their minds, and that they had no doubts about her professionalism or ability to stay out of the clients’ affairs.

  Having thanked Ms Enquist and allowed her to resume her duties, Charlotte briefly left the lounge to tell the passengers they could return to their rooms if they so wished, then invited Dorian and Professor O’Neill to join her and Antony to discuss whatever little they managed to ascertain.

  “When I said ‘remember the old days’, I didn’t mean investigate an actual murder,” Dorian sighed as he sat down in an armchair. “Truly unfortunate, and doubly so considering how many people Mr Perkins got on this train to prevent this from happening.”

  “How is he?”

  “Stressed, but doing well, all things considered. The burning question is – is this what our anonymous ‘friend’ was warning us about or is this something entirely unrelated?”

  “I see no point in letting our guard down,” Antony looked at the door leading to the restaurant carriage. “Not until everyone has safely disembarked this train. Anything the two of you managed to garner from the passengers?”

  “Ms Glancy wasn’t very talkative, at least not with the people she shared the carriage with. Everyone seemed to be quite shaken to learn that she was no more,” Dorian cleared his throat. “Before you voice your disappointment, though, a few interesting tidbits. Yesterday, one of the neighbours heard her talk to someone in a rather annoyed voice. They did not see who it was, but thought it was quite similar to Mr Adamski. They also mentioned seeing her in the company of Mr Flint and Lady Flowers, but we already know as much.”

  “Mr Adamski and his wife were in the same carriage as Ms Glancy if I remember correctly,” Charlotte said.

  Professor O’Neill produced several pages that he had torn out of a notebook and passed them over to her, “That would indeed be the case. While we were waiting for the two of you, I took it upon myself to write down the names of those who are riding in the front carriages, and which compartment they are occupying. Just in case there are any discrepancies with the official arrangements."

  “When did you manage to do that?”

  “While you were listening to the woes of Mrs Leeds. Or was it Leeks? No, definitely Leeds, I have her name written down over there.”

  Antony saw Dorian sigh and make a rather lofty gesture.

  “She complained that the air ventilation systems in her room were working too loudly the entire night, and she barely got any sleep. Her neighbour, Professor Stein, also kept writing throughout the night, and the sound of the quill scratching against the paper was incredibly jarring. And so was the humming of the mana crystals that powered the lamps in the corridor. Oh, and she is getting headaches from those mana crystals, because they’re producing some awfully dangerous waves. But the RAS refuses to acknowledge any such thing because Lord Blackwater is being paid handsomely.

  “However, despite having heard all of these noises as clearly as a marching band during a parade, she did not hear any doors opening or closing, nor anyone rummaging in Ms Glancy’s room.”

  “It isn’t impossible. Her not hearing things, that is. I will state that despite the widely spread rumours I am not present during all of Andrew’s meetings and will dare not deny or confirm her suspicions,” Antony briefly recapped what he had seen, not omitting the unexpected and embarrassing setback in the form of severe sea sickness. “With this in mind, was there anything that could have been useful to our investigation?”

  Dorian and Professor O’Neill looked at each other, then shook their heads.

  “Unless her hearing is unnaturally sharp, I am inclined to believe that everything she said was complaining for the sake of complaining. However, you’re very welcome to talk to her yourself. Who knows, there might be something I missed.”

  “Knowing you, you remembered twice more than was humanly possible or ever required,” Antony raised his hands, indicating that he had no desire to argue nor any plans to talk to Mrs Leeds. “I suggest we start with Mr Adamski. Let’s see if there really was a quarrel between the two. Then follow with Lady Flowers and Mr Flint. Unless, of course, you have a better suggestion, seeing that you had more time to observe these people.”

  “I can’t think of anything better,” Charlotte replied. “As has been pointed out, Ms Glancy wasn’t the most talkative of the bunch, and mostly kept the company of Mr Flint and Lady Flowers. Though perhaps we should also talk to Professor Stein. The two seemed to know each other.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll–”

  Antony had no time to finish as the door to the lounge burst open, letting in a very dishevelled Mr Flint.

  “You! You must save me!”

  “Pardon?”

  “You people must protect me! I’m next!”