Kehinde considered. “There are stranger things in this world than you or I will ever know. But I agree, it is not a poison I have ever seen. Twisted floromancy, to be sure.”
“I have been trying to puzzle out what could have possibly caused it. His drink? His dinner? But I was not able to inspect Captain Burr’s body. They herded all the women away like sheep.”
“Perhaps that was for the best.”
“What do you mean?” Elswyth asked.
Kehinde shrugged and sipped his beer. “From what you said, people knew you were no friend of Captain Burr.”
“You don’t mean to imply that they think I poisoned him?”
“You were seen arguing with a man right before he was murdered, Elswyth.”
“Yes, but…” She sputtered. Of course she wouldn’t have poisoned him, even if she had found him repugnant.
Kehinde raised a hand. “Your uncle and I will handle it. But it would be helpful if the identity of the real killer was discovered.”
“Is it not obvious?” Elswyth asked.
“You believe that this is the work of the Reaper.”
“Asphodel, Kehinde. The same that grows in place of the stolen organs of all his victims.”
“My regrets follow you to the grave,” Kehinde said thoughtfully. “If this is indeed the Reaper, perhaps he is sending a message.”
“What, that he regrets the murders?” Elswyth said.
Kehinde stood, getting closer to the fire and warming his hands. He looked up at the walls around him, into the glassy eyes of the taxidermied animals there. “There are other reasons to take a life than mere malice, Elswyth.”
Elswyth frowned. The thought troubled her.
Kehinde continued to think, tapping his fingers on the mantel. “And yet it seems that Captain Burr has nothing to do with Hazel Fairburn and the other dead women.”
“Nothing we can see. But he had a connection to Persephone,” Elswyth said, growing excited. “If this truly was the work of the Reaper, then Captain Burr is the victim with the most in common with my sister. Hyacinth Thatcher said that he had fancied her, and Venus implied that Persephone had rejected him. At first, I thought that made him a suspect—”
“And now he is a victim,” Kehinde said. “But the question remains: Why would the Reaper want this man dead?”
“I do not know yet. But he did. Perhaps for the same reason he wanted Persephone dead, whatever that may be. This lends credence to our theory that the Reaper is a nobleman. He could have very well been there tonight.”
“Perhaps. But, Elswyth, if this is so, then the Reaper is closer than we thought. If he can sneak poison into Captain Burr’s drink, then he can do the same to anyone. Even you.”
Elswyth chilled. She closed her eyes, but the image of Captain Burr’s corpse was there waiting for her.
She took one last look into the cup of poisoned beer on the table. Then she lifted it to her lips and drank.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cave paintings suggest that humans have been using psilocybin mushrooms, a powerful hallucinogen, since before recorded history. Effects include the reduction of inhibition, a sense of spiritual significance, and powerful euphoria.
Newspapers quickly took up the news of Captain Burr’s murder, although as of yet none had publicly connected his death to the Reaper killings. Elswyth attempted to speak with some of the guests present that night, but most refused her invitations to tea—it appeared that Elswyth’s social standing had diminished since her outburst at the Forscythes’ dinner. When Elswyth had told Mrs. Rose what she’d said to Captain Burr, the woman had nearly fainted. Then she’d busily mounted a campaign of letters to return Elswyth to society’s good graces. This temporary reprieve from Mrs. Rose’s lessons—and the lull in the social season that occurred after news of Captain Burr’s murder swept the ton—freed a small amount of time for Elswyth. And so she threw herself into searching for information about Persephone.
Since Elswyth’s arrival in the city in February, the Reaper had claimed three more victims. The papers called them his “flower girls,” and panic around the city rose to a fever. The most recent victim, in May, had been a woman named Dahlia Grey. A riot had broken out in the Rows after her body had been discovered, with thousands of people chantingWho will pay for Dahlia Grey?Percival spent more and more time in Parliament dealing with the growing unrest.
Elswyth traveled to the Rows with Kehinde twice more but never found Gillie again, or any other person with believable information. One woman hysterically told her that she had seen the Reaper and that he could fly, leaping from rooftop to rooftop on ragged wings. A fisherman by the river docks had told her that he, too, had seen the Reaper, but that he was an abomination with the body of a man and the head of a squid. A popular penny dreadful published images of him as a man in a fine suit with an old dule tree sprouting from the collar and long fingers like crooked branches, offering a gallows rope.
At night, in the near-summer heat with the balcony doors thrown open and lightning crackling silently above the city, Elswyth rolled in sweaty sheets, plagued by dreams: Persephone half-buried, struggling to free herself from the fresh-turned earth of a grave. A dule tree stood above her, each ancient branch strung with a tattered noose. When she awoke from the nightmares, she woke gasping for air, like it was she who was being pulled into the dirt and the dark instead of her sister.
Elswyth still believed the Reaper was a nobleman, and Captain Burr’s murder seemed to support that theory. But now, as her favor waned with the gentlemen of court, she had even fewer opportunities to determinewhichnobleman. Soon her investigation stalled.The only positive of her social isolation was an increase in free time, which allowed her to pursue her research.
