The Burning Chaos Page 5

  After rummaging around in his satchel, West handed a second flask over to me, his expression bleak. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse,” I said. When I returned to the dining room, Leonid was making a slow circuit of the room while Parnaby examined one of the corpses closely. Elyse was standing near him, still looking upset, while Aden, his face green, leaned against the wall, breathing heavily through his mouth.

  Leonid glanced at me from across the massive table. “Vern all right?”

  I nodded. “He’s with West.”

  Parnaby was examining a wine glass with a frown. “He’s here? Why didn’t he come inside? I called him here for a reason!”

  “I’ll go get him,” Aden said before I could answer, pushing himself off the wall and rushing out of the room.

  Leonid shook his head but said nothing. I went around the table to him. “This is awful,” I said softly.

  “I know.” His eyes were dark with worry. “This could easily have been my family, Lark. Sitting down for a meal, opening a bottle of wine, having a toast and…” He trailed off, staring at the wine glasses. “They were poisoned. They drank the wine and—”

  “Died within minutes,” I finished for him. And judging from their expressions, it had been a horrible death, too. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Leonid pulled a notebook and pencil from his coat’s pocket. “I don’t know. First, we need to identify everyone who’s been killed. Next, we need to interview the staff, to see what they know. If any of them were involved, we might be able to trip them up when we speak with them. Also, we need to find out if anyone who was killed had any enemies.”

  “Clearly, someone angered somebody,” West said as he entered the room. Glancing around, he cursed. “No wonder Aden is puking in the rosebushes.”

  Leonid snorted at that.

  Parnaby tilted the wineglass in West’s direction. “You can identify poisons. Which one is this, Weston?”

  “Sir, you really shouldn’t be handling that with your bare hands,” West said with a wince.

  Parnaby glanced at the glass, frowning slightly. “You think the poison is still on here?”

  “It might be!”

  “So if I were poisoned right now, you would be able to cure me?” Parnaby asked.

  Elyse came rushing over. “Parn! Are you insane?”

  West’s eyebrows rose. “Sir, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea. At least let me figure out which poison it is first, so I have an antidote handy.”

  “Fine.” Parnaby sniffed his disapproval as he replaced the glass from where he had taken it. “For your sake, let’s hope I wasn’t just poisoned.”

  “Thanks. As if I wasn’t feeling enough pressure already,” West muttered, pulling out a notebook before resting his satchel on the floor with a muffled thump. He flipped through the pages. “What do we have so far, Captain?”

  “Not much,” Leonid replied as he consulted his notebook. “According to initial reports, this group gathered together last night for a celebration of some sorts. I think it was this gentleman’s birthday.” He pointed to the richly dressed older man sitting at the head of the table. The man was slumped over, his head resting on top of a dinner roll in his plate.

  “What a way to celebrate the day of your birth,” West said dryly.

  “They toasted him, drank, and, according to the servants,” Parnaby continued, “immediately fell over, feeling the effects of the poison.”

  “So it’s definitely the wine.” West peered at the empty glass bottle on the table. “Anyone recognize this make?”

  “That’s Brendle’s,” Leonid said. “My parents drink that one quite often.” He made a note. “We’ll add the winemakers to the list of people who need to be interviewed.”

  West was peering at each person and glass in turn, taking everything in with his artist’s eye. “So the poison affected them immediately. That means we can eliminate the slow-working poisons.”

  “How long will it take you to figure out which poison was used?” Parnaby asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  West pulled on a pair of gloves and began gathering the wineglasses that still remained upright. “I’ll work as fast as I can, sir. Luckily, there’s enough wine left to test.” He poured the contents of each wineglass back into the bottle carefully. “I’ll take this back to my lab and get to work immediately. I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything.”

  Parnaby dismissed him with a wave of his hand. There was a dark look on his face as he surveyed the room. “Leonid, this is not good.”

  “I know, sir.” He had been scribbling notes the entire time, but now he looked up. “With your permission, I’ll head to the prison right now to question the staff.”

  “Go ahead. We’re done here.” Parnaby exited the room with Elyse quickly trailing after him.

  “Coming, Lark?” Leonid asked as he tucked his notebook back into his coat’s pocket.

  I couldn’t leave that room fast enough.

  THE STAFF HAD BEEN TAKEN to the eastern Way prison. Leonid could have transferred to this one after the western prison—his prison—had been destroyed, but he had opted for field work instead. Now, as we took the streets of Way at a fast pace, I wondered if investigating murders of families all too similar to his own was what Leonid had in mind when he had taken that position.

  Aden and Vernen joined us, the relief at not having to return to the manor apparent on both of their faces. We filled them in as we walked to the prison.

  “Those poor people,” Vernen said softly.

  Leonid and I exchanged uneasy glances. What would happen to Vernen when we entered the prison? The last time he’d been inside one, he’d been murdered. He still bore a small pink scar on his neck as proof.

  I’ll watch him closely, I decided. If Vernen showed any signs of panic, I’d usher him out of the prison as fast as I could.

  I would not let him suffer through memories of his death two times in one day.

  MUCH LIKE LEONID’S OLD PRISON, this one was located on a deserted street, the buildings surrounding it abandoned long ago. A few soldiers loitered outside the building, nodding to Leonid as he passed them.

  It was ice-cold inside, the gas lamps blazing at full strength but doing little to provide warmth. I wrapped my coat tighter around me, my teeth chattering as we headed toward the rear of the building. A tall, bulky man stepped out from a side room, blocking Leonid’s way. He had dark blond hair tied back in a tail, and brown eyes that assessed our group quickly. When his stare fell on me, he frowned. “You’re bringing your sweetheart to investigations now, Captain?”

  Leonid smirked. “Well, you know how it is. She couldn’t bear to be apart from me.”

  Resisting the urge to kick him, I opened my mouth to protest. Leonid shot me a meaningful look, and I quickly swallowed my objections. Only a select few knew I was a spy for the president. To everyone else, I was still a street magician’s assistant.

  And Leonid’s sweetheart who couldn’t stand being apart from him, apparently.

  “Have you gotten anything out of the servants, Pelltrock?” Leonid asked.

  “The usual,” Pelltrock responded. A thin red scar ran down the left side of his face, close to his ear, and I wondered what had caused that. It stood out starkly next to his pale skin. “They’ve all sworn their innocence, wept over the terrible tragedy, claimed they don’t know who would want to harm their employers…” He rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’ll have better luck with them.”

  Leonid fidgeted with his gloves, tugging on the bottoms of each one in turn. “We’ll see.” Turning, he addressed the rest of us. “I need to speak with all of them to determine whether they’re lying or not.” By relying on his instinct, I imagined he meant. “If you want to return home, I won’t be angry.”

  “I want to help,” I said quickly as Vernen and Aden nodded.

  “That’s what I figured.” Leonid smiled slightly. “We’ll overwhelm them if four of us enter the room, so
the rest of you can take turns. Lark, will you be first?”

  I nodded, hesitating before I followed him and Pelltrock down the corridor. “Aden, will you…” I wasn’t sure how to voice my concerns about Vernen with him standing right in front of me.

  But I didn’t have to worry; Aden already knew what I meant. Smiling, he produced a deck of cards from his coat’s pocket. “We’ll play a few rounds until the captain is ready for us.”

  Relief poured through me. “Thank you.” I scurried to catch up with Leonid. Even in my rush, I couldn’t help but notice papers bearing the faces of various wanted criminals decorating the walls, no doubt West’s work. I spotted the illustrations of my mysterious woman and Leonid’s thief amongst the others, but they quickly fled my mind when we entered an interrogation room not unlike the one Leonid had questioned me in during the Bantheir case. About twenty-five servants crowded the room, some sitting on the floor, while others leaned against the walls.

  “Is there another room we can use?” Leonid asked Pelltrock. “I want to question them one at a time.”

  “Across the hallway.”

  “Good.” Leonid indicated an older man. “You. Come with me. The rest, stay in here.” He turned on his heel and I had to walk briskly to keep up with him. He was all business, acting much like he had when we’d first met.

  I just hoped for their sake—or maybe Leonid’s—that no one annoyed the captain like I had when we first met.

  “Sit down,” Leonid said to the older man. In the center of the room was a long wooden table, worn from years of use. Uncomfortable wooden chairs were gathered around it, and Leonid and I sat in a pair on one side of the table while the man sat across from us. Leonid took out his notebook once more, flipping to a clean page before looking at the man. “State your name and occupation.”

  “Wilson, sir. I’m the butler for the Marshal family.”

  “The Marshals are the owners of the manor, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” The butler leaned forward in his chair, his light brown eyes bright with unshed tears. “Please, sir, tell me you’ll find out who did this. They were good people; they didn’t deserve this!”

  “That is exactly what I intend to do today,” Leonid promised. “I’m going to ask you questions, and I need you to promise to answer them honestly. Anything you might know, even the tiniest of details that may seem unimportant to you, may in fact be the key to solving this case. Can you do that for me, Wilson?”

  The butler’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “Yes, of course.”

  “Thank you for being cooperative. Unlike other people,” he added under his breath, shooting me a sidelong glance.

  I kicked him under the table, wearing my most innocent expression when he glared at me. “Don’t you have a question for Wilson?”

  Muttering a curse, Leonid turned his attention back to the butler. “Tell me about yesterday. It was a gathering for…?”

  “Master Marshal’s birthday, sir,” Wilson quickly supplied. “Jenner Marshal. He was turning sixty-five, and despite his desire to keep the celebrations low-key, his family insisted on a celebration of sorts. They wanted a much grander party, he simply wanted a sherry before bed and…” Wilson shrugged his shoulders. “As you saw, they compromised with this intimate gathering. It was very last minute—”

  “How last minute?” Leonid interrupted, scratching notes in his notebook. I wished I had a paper of my own, but for now I would have to rely on memory.

  “Just within the last three days, sir. We scrambled to have everything ready by last night, and we were about to congratulate ourselves on a job well done when…” Wilson choked up, looking away as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Forgive me, please.” He dabbed at his eyes. “It’s only—I’ve been in their employment since I was a lad, and to see them suffer like that?” He shuddered, his expression disturbed. “It is something I will go to the grave remembering.”

  “I’m sorry for forcing you to relive this, but I need to know exactly what happened. Who opened the wine?”

  Wilson paused, swallowing. “I did.”

  Leonid laid his pencil down. “Why did you pause just then?” I glanced at him, wondering if he was sensing a lie.

  “Because, sir, you’re going to suspect me, aren’t you? It’s why you picked me first. The butler. Who else could have murdered all of those people so easily?” Wilson mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

  “The chef, for one,” I said. Both men turned to me. “The chef could have put poison in their food. Did they eat anything before the toast, or did they drink first?”

  “No, miss, even though we set the food for the first course, they started with the toast. I opened the wine bottle and poured the wine, as is my duty.”

  “You opened the bottle in the dining room or in the kitchen?” Leonid asked.

  “In the dining room, sir.”

  “So there was no chance for you to add the poison into the bottle,” I pointed out.

  “The poison could have already been in the glasses, in the form of a powder that no one noticed,” Leonid replied.

  Wilson’s voice rose in indignation. “That’s impossible, sir. I would have noticed powder in their glasses before I poured the wine! Are you suggesting I don’t know how to do my job?”

  “No, I’m not,” Leonid said, his quiet voice a sharp contrast to Wilson’s.

  The butler’s face reddened with embarrassment. “My apologizes, sir. I-I didn’t mean to yell.” Nervously, he played with a thin silver bracelet that hung from his wrist. “I suppose you’re right. We were in such a rush to get everything ready for the party.” He exhaled sharply. “There could have been powder in the glasses that I overlooked. Which makes me responsible for their deaths, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?” Leonid said as the butler’s face fell. He held up a hand. “In cases like these, it’s very easy to assume it’s the butler. But that’s too simple. What happened at this party?” Leonid shook his head, his expression darkening. “That was far from simple.” With his pencil poised over his notebook, he bade the butler to continue.

  Wilson took a deep, shuddering breath as he steeled himself to relive the next part of the story. “Master Jenner stood, glass in hand, as he gave a speech, thanking his friends and family for gathering there to honor him on his birthday.”

  “Where were you while he was speaking?” Leonid asked.

  “Standing against the wall, with the other servants. Like I said, the first course had already been served, so we could melt into the shadows and let them enjoy their meal. Once they finished, we’d collect the plates and serve the second course. As per usual, sir.”

  “Yes, of course.” Leonid nodded. “But they never got to the first course.”

  “No, sir. After Master Jenner’s speech was over, they clinked glasses and took a drink, in unison. And then…” He trailed off, squeezing his handkerchief desperately.

  Leonid and I remained silent, letting the man work through his grief.

  “Sir, have you ever seen someone die before?” Wilson whispered. Glancing at me, he startled. “I beg your pardon, miss. This isn’t something you should be hearing—”

  “I’ve seen it.” I paused to clear my throat. “Someone die. More than one person, in fact. It’s awful, and I don’t blame you for being upset, Wilson. But we need to know what happened next, so we can prevent something like this from ever happening again.”

  Under the table, Leonid’s free hand found mine, and he squeezed it reassuringly.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness such a thing, miss,” Wilson said. “It’s not something anyone should see. Male or female.” He covered his face with his hand, a sob cutting through his words. “They were in so much pain, sir. At first, we didn’t know what was going on. They were grabbing at their throats, trying to cry out, but they couldn’t. Then they slumped over, clutching their throats, their stomachs, trying to stay upright in thei
r chairs as their eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. And all the while, they didn’t make a single noise. They died silently, sir, but there was no mistaking their suffering.

  “And there wasn’t a thing we could to help them.”

  Silence settled over the room, and a coldness crept down my neck. I could picture those people dying, their bodies writhing as they struggled to make a single noise. Did they realize they were dying? Did they know they, along with everyone else at the table, had been poisoned? Or had they been in too much agony to even know what was going on?

  What a way to die.

  Leonid asked Wilson a few more questions before sending him back to the room across the hallway. “You all right, Lark?” he said from the doorway.

  I rubbed my throat unconsciously as I stood. “It’s awful, Leonid.”

  He crossed the room, leaning his hip against the table. “I know. But what you told Wilson? About how we need to solve this before it can happen again? You were absolutely right. Listening to their testimonies isn’t easy, but we need to do it. We owe it to the fourteen souls who were murdered. They didn’t deserve this type of death, but they do deserve justice.”

  Justice. When I’d been the one imprisoned, Leonid had given me the chance to search for the truth in hopes of freeing myself and clearing Bantheir’s name. He could have kept me in my cell and let Raynard handle me, but instead he’d wanted to work with me because he believed in my innocence from the very beginning. Because he believed in justice.

  He was such a good man. The best. Did Parnaby know how lucky he was to have someone like Leonid working for him?

  He might not, but I did. After checking to make sure no one was standing in the doorway, I threw my arms around Leonid.

  “Whoa. What’s this?” His arms encircled me. “Not that I mind, but we are in the middle of a prison. If the other soldiers see us, they’ll grow jealous.”