Chapter 24: Smoke, Silk, and Suspicion
The corpse, as corpses often do, had the indecency of bleeding all over my party.
Red on wood, red on lace, red on reputation.
The train’s festive glow dimmed to a flickering hush. Even the enchanted strings Miko had conjured had the good sense to choke themselves into silence. Guests huddled in corners like guilty shadows. The scent of perfume clashed with the coppery tang of murder. It was all so terribly gauche.
"A woman’s throat slit, a death threat tacked to her chest, and a killer who’s apparently got a flare for drama," I said aloud, pacing in front of the body. "And I thought I was the only one with theatrical flair aboard."
Miko knelt beside the body, his veil fluttering faintly with each breath. He examined the spiral-marked coin and the jagged script of the note. "Message was written with confidence. Arrogant hand. Someone who knew we’d take the bait."
"Do you think it’s a warning or an invitation?"
He looked up at me with that glimmer of trickster’s calm. "Can’t it be both?"
Paranoia began to percolate through the crowd like spiced wine gone rancid. A noblewoman near the back of the car shrieked, "What if they’re still among us? What if the murderer is one of us?"
Concerns became murmurs. Murmurs became voices. Voices became accusations. It didn’t take long for a rat-faced merchant to jab a finger at a thick-necked bodyguard.
"It’s him! He’s the killer—I saw him near the back earlier!"
"Oh, fuck off," the bodyguard snapped, his hand drifting toward his coat. "If I’d wanted to kill someone, it wouldn’t be the one woman who sells me rare tea leaves, now would it?"