Bronze Gods (11 page)

At last she tidied her desk and tried to slip from the office, but as she headed toward the lift, the gruff tones of the commander stopped her. “Ritsuko, I’d like a word.”

Damn. And I was nearly gone for the night.

The commander had taken to working late because he didn’t want to deal with the constant interruptions during the day. Messengers had been in and out of his office all week long—from the high Houses, the Council, and even the Ward Representative Assembly. They all wanted to know the same thing:
How could this happen? Who would dare assail so many centuries of unquestioned superiority?
Thugs and commoners fell into low company and came to bad ends. Not lovely, innocent House scions.

“Yes, sir,” she said, altering course.

The old man looked tired tonight. He peered at her over his desk, over the edge of wire spectacles. Commander Gunwood was deceptively bookish, but his mild exterior hid the heart of a lion. “You know I took a great risk in appointing you to the CID.”

She nodded. Every other city branch had refused her anything but a spot in the clerical pool. They thought she was only suited to taking notes and fetching tea. From the first, she’d fought for every inch she gained; it had required five separate recommendations before they agreed to let her to do lab work. Getting herself accepted as a field agent had required even more determination. She laced her hands together, hoping she wasn’t about to be demoted.

“But you turned out to be one of my best officers,” the commander went on. “I’m not sorry I backed you.”

“However,” she prompted.

“If you and Mikani don’t resolve this soon, I’ll have to pull you off the case.”

Her teeth clenched. He didn’t need to explain. She knew why. The brass would be telling him there was no way a man, saddled with an incompetent female partner, could be expected to crack a case like this. Why not slide it to one of the other teams? A decision like that would mar her record.

“I understand.” Ritsuko worked to keep her features blank and expressionless. “We suspect the Aevar murder may be connected to the Royale, so we’ve been watching.” Trying to read his expression, she hastened on. “But that’s not the only angle we’re pursuing. I have a list of Academy students with the skill to build such a device, and I spoke to some of them today. I’ll also be checking the emporiums for purchase records. It’s only a matter of time until I run this monster to ground.”

See how thorough I am?
For obvious reasons, she didn’t mention the magic angle. Her status felt shaky enough already.

“I pray you’re right,” Gunwood said tiredly. “Go home, Ritsuko. Get some sleep. You’re no use to me if you’re dead on your feet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pressure tightened her chest as she turned away; the coat over her arm felt heavier than usual. She suspected she’d just glimpsed the end of her career. Oh, they wouldn’t fire her; they were too proud of what she represented. So they’d just shuffle her off to desk work while pretending she still possessed the full confidence of the CID. That way, whenever suffragettes picketed the building, they could trot her out and explain that they did, in fact, give proper consideration to all female candidates but only chose the best.

That was her. So why couldn’t she get a handle on this thing? Nobody had seen anything. Nobody
knew
anything. It was as if a great, dark shadow had scooped Cira Aevar up. They didn’t even know whether she’d been taken from her home, or on the streets, from the theater, or somewhere in between. But there were no hungry ghosts haunting the city. Someone made of flesh and blood had affixed her to that infernal apparatus, though for what purpose she could not even begin to guess.

Her mood was glum as she rode down on the puffing lift. But to her surprise, she found someone waiting for her in the lobby. Security hadn’t permitted him past the first checkpoint, so he sat on one of the benches, staring at the red-veined marble floor. When his head came up, she recognized Mr. Gideon at once.

“If you’d explained to Tolliver that you needed to speak with me regarding an investigation, he would’ve notified me of your arrival.”

The stagehand pushed to his feet, twisting his hat in his hands. “I remembered after you left . . . but I wasn’t sure if it was important. I thought I should tell you—”

“Yes, of course. Any information might prove unexpectedly valuable.”

“There was an actor who paid attention to Cira. He teased her, flirted with her. I recall thinking he was a bit old for her. She couldn’t have been more than twenty.”

Nineteen,
she corrected silently, then produced her notepad. “Do you know his name?”

“Toombs. Gregory Toombs.”

“Can you give me a description?”

“He’s nearly forty, I think. Dark-haired. Women seem to find him irresistible.”

“So Cira favored his attentions?” She watched him. His reaction would tell her a great deal, whether he’d known the girl better than he claimed.

“I’m not sure.”

“Did he come on strong?”

Mr. Gideon considered. “To a girl half his age? Yes, I believe so.”

“Do you have any idea where we can find him?” This was the final question and the most important one.

“No,” he said. “That’s the odd thing. I haven’t seen him since Cira disappeared.”

Could this be the lead they’d been waiting for? Perhaps the actor had wanted to turn Cira into some form of macabre art. Perhaps her death was, in itself, theater. Ritsuko was already mentally making plans to circulate a picture of Toombs.

A happy shiver worked its way through her; her career might not be over after all. This was another piece of the puzzle, and she believed the solution must lie in hard work, logical thinking, and methodical investigation. So instead of going home, she went back upstairs to search the files on Greg Toombs. Fortunately, it wasn’t so late that the Records department would be closed.

The commander arched both brows when he saw her stride into the duty room. “You’re not very good at following orders, Ritsuko.”

“New lead. A man from the Royale came down with a tip regarding Miss Aevar and an actor. I suspect he didn’t want his colleagues to see him as an informer.”

“Understandable,” Gunwood admitted. “Very well, you’re clear to pursue this, but promise me you’ll rest sometime soon.”

“I will.”
As soon as we catch this maniac.
“After I check with Records.”

After filling out the form, she took it downstairs personally, hoping the clerk would be kind enough to get into the archives immediately. The woman on duty looked tired and overworked, much as Ritsuko felt. Further complicating matters, she had a backlog of document requests all over her desk. Most male inspectors would respond to this by barking; Ritsuko took another tack.

“I worked in this department for years. Why don’t you let me help you get caught up? Unless the filing system has changed. I don’t want to make more work for you.”

The other woman stared up at her with exhausted eyes, pale in the gaslight; she looked queasy as well. “Why would you do that for me?”

There was no point in pretending altruism. “Because I’ll get what I need sooner.”

A smile creased the clerk’s wan face. “The system hasn’t changed. Come on back.”

CHAPTER 10

T
HE DAY WAS WELL ADVANCED BY THE TIME
M
IKANI ROLLED
out of bed.

Damned be. No point in going to HQ at this hour.
Which was just as well. The case had run him ragged, giving him no chance to tend to the little civilities of life. After a quick bath to soothe the bruises from the fight at the warehouse, he got his walking stick, inspected it for damage, then unsheathed the blade to oil and clean it. He propped it against the desk and saw some unanswered letters from his sisters, so he took the chance to reply.

That done, he went into the kitchen to make the week’s bread. While it was baking, he went to the mirror station to post his sisters’ letters and sent a quick message to let his partner know he’d see her at the theater for the 6
P.M.
interview they’d scheduled with Leonidas the other night.

Later, Mikani met his partner down by the stage at the Royale. Rehearsal was in full swing; though the dancers weren’t in costume, they seemed to have mastered more of their routines. There was less yelling from Miss Wright, at any rate. He glanced around in search of their quarry. Leonidas was a riddle he meant to solve; this time, neither good manners nor procedure would get in the way of figuring out why the Royale owner felt like so much nothing. As Ritsuko had said, just like the machine.

Mikani tilted his head and listened for the absence that marked Leonidas. Like a hound after his prey, it took him only a moment to trace the eddying lack of trail of the owner, heading somewhere backstage. “This way.” With a brief glance to Ritsuko, he headed in, smiling absently at those he gently shouldered past. “He’s in the office, I think. Wright’s with him.” The flare of the choreographer deepened Leonidas’s shadow, rendering it more tangible.

He led the way, as they’d visited once before, and found the two waiting. Ritsuko greeted them politely with a handshake while he stood back and tried to read the prevailing mood. The owner’s interference made the whole room fuzzy; his partner barely registered, between Wright and Leonidas. But he could tell the choreographer was nervous, her mood flickering.

“Mr. Leonidas. Thank you for granting us this interview.”

“Unless I craved more invasions to my privacy, I had little choice but to comply. Aurelia made it clear you won’t simply go away.”

“Speaking of which.” Ritsuko turned to Miss Wright. “While I appreciate your desire to support your friend, I’m afraid you must go about your business. This shouldn’t take long.”

It was the nicest method of saying
go away
that Mikani had ever heard.

He waited for Miss Wright to give Leonidas one last long look and leave, before turning to the theater owner. “Miss Aevar worked as an assistant in the costume department. Were you two acquainted?”

“I knew her by sight. To the best of my recollection, we never spoke. She seemed shy.” Leonidas gestured, indicating his forbidding appearance. “I’m not one to put young women at their ease, either.”

“Then you had no dealings with her outside the theater, and don’t know her circle of acquaintances?” Mikani frowned, listening for any shift in the man’s emotional barrier.

“No, I told you I never spoke to her. I certainly didn’t pay attention to her friends.” He sounded terse, annoyed even, but due to the mask, it was impossible to verify via facial expression.

Ritsuko had her notebook out and was checking facts they’d gathered over days of exhaustive interviews. In a quiet, neutral tone, she read them off. “Cira Aevar went missing eight days ago. The head costume designer is the last person to report seeing her alive. She left this theater and was never seen again. Her body was found four days ago.” At that point, she glanced up to ask, “Where were you the night Miss Aevar disappeared?”

Leonidas turned his attention to Ritsuko. “I was here.” He raised an arm, almost hitting the wall in the small office. Junk teetered on overflowing shelves, threatening to topple. “I’m always here. I don’t have much call to leave these days.” He sounded pained by the admission.

“Is there anyone who can corroborate your claim?” Ritsuko asked.

Mikani added, “During the day, I imagine you’re hard to miss, but once everyone leaves . . . ? We’ve been down to your domain. There may be hidden exits that would make it quite easy to slip in and out.”

Leonidas leaned closer, his eyes narrowed. “There are no hidden exits, Inspectors. No secret bolt-holes or tunnels out of this place—” He stopped and took a deep breath, lowering his voice to a conversational tone. “I sealed the theater months ago. I value my privacy far too much to give carte blanche to thieves. Feel free to search the place, top to bottom. And if you get lost, I
might
send help.”

Mikani started to respond to that challenge, but a scream rang out from the theater beyond. Leonidas flung open the door, and they ran into the wings. The scene was chaotic, but he assimilated it in a glance: an overturned lamp, smoke writhing in the air, and flames licking at the stage curtains. Dancers flew around in various stages of panic and preparedness, some fetching water, others screaming. The fire raced upward. If it reached the ceiling, the timbers would burn.

“Let’s get these people out, Ritsuko,” He need not have worried; his partner was already directing stagehands and dancers to help or flee. “Come, Mr. Leonidas, we should lend a hand.” Mikani paused, looking back over his shoulder at the theater owner gazing at the flames, still as a statue. “Gods and spirits, let’s move!”

He grabbed the man’s arm, then he fought the urge to recoil as a roiling wave of fear and pain washed over him as soon as he touched Leonidas. It was an all-consuming roar, far louder than the screams around them. Mikani felt his face blistering, peeling away, the lick of fire against his chest. And stronger than the burning curtains and scorching wood, the taste of burned flesh choked him. He stumbled with surprise and shock, letting go of Leonidas. He gasped for breath, nauseated by the onslaught, so that he dropped his hands onto his knees.

Overhead, the burning curtain charred into strips, and through blurred vision, he saw that part of it was about to drop on them. It took all of his strength when he dove at Leonidas, and Mikani used weight and momentum to drive the other man out of the way. They hit the ground hard; impact seemed to wake him up, whether it was the hit or the pain, Mikani couldn’t say. Leonidas scrambled away from the flames, away from the smoldering fabric, on his hands and knees. Mikani helped him up, then shoved him toward the safe portion of the hall.

Later, he’d consider what this meant. For now, he joined his partner in fighting the fire. They tore down the heavy draperies, which collapsed with a shower of sparks and ash onto the stage. Quick-thinking stagehands sliced open the sandbags used as counterweights for the curtains, using the coarse sand and gravel to help smother the flames. As Mikani bent to pick up a cumbersome sack, he felt a wash of cold air, smelling strongly of the sea, against his cheek. Confused, he glanced up to see one of the dancers kneeling near the edge of the stage, murmuring under her breath.

The wash of air spread past them, swirling around the flames. Damping them, with a whisper reminiscent of the ocean. When she caught him staring at her, she started, her face going pale as milk. Her eyes were huge, fear of reprisal shining clearly. The flames flared, and he gave her a nod; she recovered and resumed her chant, tears rolling down her cheeks. Mikani turned away to empty the last of the sand. The next time he checked, the girl had fled.

Ritsuko joined him, lifting her fingers as if she could touch what he sensed in the air. Within the theater, it still felt clean and damp as high tide. Between the quiet invocation and the application of sand and hard effort, the fire was out. He glimpsed Leonidas collapsed in a seat toward the back of the hall, safe enough, but the man appeared utterly wrecked.

“Did she just . . .” Ritsuko trailed off, seeming unable to finish the question.

Mikani hesitated. “She helped put out the fire. We all did. We should get medals. Or drinks. I’d settle for the latter . . . We should check on our person of interest, don’t you think?” He nodded toward Leonidas.

Though he had complete faith in his partner, the girl had risked her own safety—and her liberty—for everyone else. Plausible deniability was best when there was even a hint of magic. Better for all concerned if Ritsuko only suspected.

Wiping at the soot and ash caked over his face, Mikani led the way back toward the theater owner. “Mr. Leonidas . . . ?” He stopped three feet away, tentatively reading the man. The barrier was slowly coalescing once more, raw pain and fear withdrawing into the shell. Mikani was debating touching him once more, when the man looked up. “I believe everyone’s safe. Do you need a physician, sir?”

“No. Thank you for your . . . intervention.” The man’s voice was rusty, as if he’d been screaming for hours. “What I’d most like is to be left alone, if that could be arranged. Is there anything further, Inspectors?”

His partner shook her head. “I believe we have everything we need. I apologize again for our intrusion the other evening . . . and we do appreciate your cooperation.”

•   •   •

T
EN MINUTES LATER,
Ritsuko joined Mikani in the foyer. She’d washed up as best she could in the lavatory, removing the worst of the soot from face and hands though there was nothing she could do about the smoke damage to her gray suit. Fortunately, it didn’t show as badly as it would on some shades. By her partner’s expression, she could see he had something weighty on his mind.

So as she approached, she said, “Tell me.”

Mikani shook his head, as if weighing his words. “When the fire started, I finally got a reading off Leonidas. It was as if a dam had broken. The man was terrified, Ritsuko. I . . .” He ran fingers through his hair. “His parents died in an accident? The one that left him scarred?”

“Yes?” she prompted.

“He’s in constant pain. I suspect I can’t feel anything from him because he’s trying to block the anguish even from himself. And he would no more go near a fire on purpose than I’d get married.”

“So he’s not the one. But you said that his emptiness felt familiar, it was like the machine. So does that mean the killer’s in pain, like Leonidas? He’s been injured somehow?” That would make him easier to track down. “But . . . a weak or recuperating man wouldn’t be able to assemble such a contraption without help, would he?”

“I wouldn’t call Leonidas weak. But it’s worth looking into.” Mikani glanced around the theater, traces of smoke still lingering in the air making his eyes water. “I do think you’re right; Leonidas is not our man. But we do have that tip to look into before we head out, assuming we can find Elaine Day.”

Yes, the anonymous note.

She was still turning the new theory over in her mind. “Maybe it’s not necessarily physical pain. Would an emotional wound or heartbreak do it? A sudden loss that might’ve triggered . . .” She couldn’t find the words to describe what the monster had done.

Mikani canted his head for her to follow. “He might blame the Aevars for his tragedy, yes. And that would lead him to make them pay through their daughter. It must have been something unbearable, to have snapped his mind. Let’s find the choreographer; she should be able to point us toward the right girl.”

Miss Wright was near the foot of the stage, consoling the dancers who hadn’t fled in a panic. One girl sat with Leonidas at the back of the theater, and they were talking in low, impassioned tones. Ritsuko read reticence in the man’s body language, insistence on the part of the dancer, who was a pretty girl with fair hair and large eyes; at this distance, it was impossible to judge the color.

“I’m sorry to bother you, as I know it’s been a dreadful day, but I wondered if you could point me in Elaine Day’s direction.” Ritsuko didn’t mention the anonymous note they’d received, but the other woman froze for a moment, a telling response.

“Yes, yes, of course. She’s actually talking to Leo right now.”

Interesting.

Ritsuko spun to study them, taking new interest in the couple. “I see. Thank you.”

Leonidas stood, stepping before the slender girl protectively as they approached. “I believe we’re done here, Inspectors.” Elaine peered at Ritsuko from behind the man’s shoulder. “I need to see to my theater, get all this cleaned up.”

Mikani smiled, and Ritsuko saw that it wasn’t his usual sardonic look. “Feel free, Mr. Leonidas. We’ll take care of Miss Day. We’d like a word, if you’ll come with us, miss.”

The theater owner shook his head, shielding the girl with his body. “Miss Day needs her rest—” Just then, the dancer stepped around Leonidas, tilting her chin up. “It’s fine, Mr. Leonidas. I—I think it may be for the best.”

Ritsuko had a feeling there was a reason Leonidas didn’t want them talking to the girl, but given what Mikani had said earlier, she suspected it wasn’t related to the murder. Still, they couldn’t proceed without giving due diligence to all suspects. Once they could cross Leonidas off the list for good, it would give them more time to pursue other leads, like the names she’d gotten from the Academy and the tip from Mr. Gideon about the actor, Gregory Toombs.