Nefertiti's Heart by A W Exley

Author:A W Exley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Steampunk, fantasy historical
Publisher: A. W. Exley
Published: 2015-08-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Wednesday, July 17

Three keys sat on the corner of Inspector Fraser's desk. Amongst the chaos, they were a sliver of order, with space neatly cleared around them. Each key was an identical distance from its companions. Teeth faced inward; ornate filigree bows touched the outer edge of the desk. Through the bows, and attached with twine, cardboard labels dangled over the side. Inscribed in black ink on each label was the name of a girl. A dead girl. Three lives locked, never to be opened again.

Fraser stood and touched the closest key with his fingertips. Beth Armstrong. He walked with leaden feet up the stairs to the superintendent's office. Taking a deep breath, he rapped sharply on the door.

"Enter," barked an order. The super occupied an entire corner on the top floor, with a picturesque view of the city. He stood at his window, a dispatch dangling from his fingers. He looked up at Fraser's entry.

"Ah, Fraser, what progress have you made?" Clipped tones indicated another military man. A colonel in a former life, he was used to having his orders obeyed and never questioned.

Fraser halted in the middle of the room and coughed to clear his throat. "I believe I am starting to discern a pattern among the victims—"

"Starting? You're starting to discern something?" His superior swung to regard him, a thick red vein pulsing in his temple. "We have three dead young women. Gentlewomen, Fraser. Do you understand? Three dead ladies, not your common street tarts. How many have to die before you find him?"

Fraser hated this bit. The victim's place of birth should have no influence over how much effort he expended to find the killer. Street girl or noble, they both deserved the same level of attention from him. Although given a choice, he would rather seek out a street girl for comfort than any highly bred, nervous creature. "I'm sure you appreciate, sir, we need to examine all the clues to find the monstrous person responsible."

"I need you to appreciate that I want to be able to enjoy a quiet brandy in my club without being accosted by anxious aristocrats!" the superintendent bellowed. "London is in an uproar, we have some chap stalking and killing the daughters of the nobility. You cannot begin to appreciate the pressure I am under, or how many irate questions I have to field while at my club." His voice rose and fell with his anger, his cheeks and nose turning beetroot red.

Fraser remained calm; he had weathered such storms before. Better to let the superintendent's rage buffet about him, bend under the pressure, and remain standing in its wake.

"I believe we have a strong lead with Beth Armstrong. The sarcophagus she was found in came from one of Lyons' airships." He stood with his hands behind his back. Threads were beginning to draw together, the picture revealing itself.

"Viscount Lyons? Be very careful of your facts before you go after him. Just because the coffin passed through his hangar doesn't mean he's involved.

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