The Deathsniffer’s Assistant (The Faraday Files Book 1) (8 page)

“So you have no reason to think he was?”

“No.”

Olivia pursed her lips. “And would any of
them
have reason to hate him?”

The Duchess looked genuinely surprised by the question. “…I…” She frowned. “I wouldn’t know, to be perfectly honest. I barely ever knew any of them. Though the most recent…well, I suppose I’ll leave that for you to decide.”

Olivia gave Chris a pointed look and he nodded to her.
duchess doesn’t know any of the victim’s
He paused in mid sentence, unsure of what to write.
proteges,
he decided eventually, opting for the most tactful of options open to him.
potential killers?
he put underneath, and underlined it.

As they swept under the sprawling blossoms of an apple tree and moved to settle into a carriage house as large as the Buckley estate, Chris tried and failed to take in every detail of the five-story val Daren manor. What he did see set a fire of envy burning deep in the pit of his stomach. The Duchess didn’t make a move to leave her seat until the doorman jumped down and opened her side for her. She barely looked at the fellow as she stepped out and alighted on the ground beneath her like a bird on a branch. Olivia followed, and Chris slid across the seat after them.

Duchess val Daren’s lovely shoes clicked against the front walk and the Deathsniffer and her assistant tagged along behind almost like dogs dutifully at the heels of their kennel master. Almost. Olivia was far too curious to be a faithful hound. Her gaze snaked about, took in everything and filed it away, and Chris could see the wheels working in her strange head. What was she trying to do, he wondered, solve the case by analyzing the landscaping? He wondered if that was possible. He knew that the abilities of a truthsniffer were about hunches, pattern recognition, subconscious flashes of precognition. Was it as easy as glancing around and just knowing what had happened?

They mounted the stone staircase flanked by two bubbling fountains glowing azure. The Duchess pushed open the oaken front door and they stepped into a sanctum of style.

Chris felt himself dizzy at the level of taste displayed. It was obvious everything there was worth more than his family could have afforded even at their most wealthy, generations ago. But none of it was tacky or extravagant, nothing stood out to say
see how much money changed hands when I came here?
It all blended into mahogany and gold luxury. Chris sighed in utter bliss. He’d have liked nothing more than to lay down in the centre of the floor and fall asleep surrounded by elegance.

“You have a very lovely home,” he heard himself saying to the Duchess, awe in his voice.

She spared him a moment’s glance before looking away. “Thank you,” she said, and then seemed to forget he was there once again.

“Ana!” the Duchess called. She slipped off her black lace gloves, laying them on a polished mahogany table beneath a large, gold framed magic mirror shimmering like snow on a clear morning. “
Ana
,” the Duchess called again, impatience entering her voice. She turned to Olivia. “I trust you’ll want to meet her?”

“Who is this?” Olivia asked archly.

The Duchess didn’t seem to notice her tone. “Lady Analaea val Daren. Our daughter, and our only child.”

“For lack of success or lack of trying?” Olivia murmured. If the Duchess heard her, she made no move to show it, and they stood there, once again in silence, while Chris tried to record things in his book that weren’t
flawless floors
and
must be hundreds of gold candles in that chandelier
.

While they waited, he constructed an image of what Evelyn val Daren’s daughter would look like. He gave her tightly contained chestnut hair like her mother, and a collected, icy countenance. Well dressed, of course, and demure in a proud way. He didn’t even notice he was doing it until the Duchess said, “Ah, there,” and he looked up to see the girl descending the stairs.

Analaea val Daren was a tall girl,
unusually
tall, with long, straight, jet black hair hanging unbound around her shoulders—not like Olivia’s, straight and sleek, but limp and untouched. She was thin, bordering on skinny, with a simple gown draping her like she were a hanger in a wardrobe. Her face
could
have been beautiful, but was devoid of the cosmetics it would need. Her cheeks were red, her eyes swollen.

“Mother,” she murmured when she reached the first landing.

“Come down, Ana,” the Duchess said, gesturing. “This is Miss Olivia Faraday, the investigative truthsniffer who will be looking into your father’s case. Miss Faraday, this is Lady Analaea val Daren.”

Olivia inclined her head with such theatricality, Chris was certain she was making fun of something. Everything, perhaps. “It’s a
pleasure
, my lady,” she said.

The girl nodded, her eyes barely taking Olivia in before slipping to her mother. “I was just leaving.”

Duchess val Daren’s eyes narrowed. “Where?”

Analaea hesitated. “…Ethan thought I shouldn’t stay in the house, with―”

“
Ethan
’s here?” The Duchess’s voice was razor sharp.

Analaea flinched. It was to her credit she didn’t cower outright. “Yes,” she answered. “He’s waiting in the stable. He thought we could ride. He said it would clear my head. He’s bringing his paints with us…”

“Miss Faraday will want to speak to you. I don’t think going out would be a very good idea.” The Duchess dismissed the matter with finality.

“No, not right away,” Olivia said. “Go riding with this Ethan fellow, Lady. To be perfectly honest, I’d rather not have you underfoot during my investigation. I’ll question you later if I think I’ll need to. When you get home, perhaps?”

“Oh, thank you,” Analaea breathed. She didn’t wait for her mother to confirm Olivia’s dismissal, but brushed quickly between them to the door, and then vanished outside.

The Duchess let out an angry stream of breath once it closed. “
Ethan Grey
,” she spat, shocking Chris with her tone. She had been cold and haughty from the moment she walked into the office, but this was outright acerbic. “She’s enamoured with his little drawings and how he pretends to fawn on her. She’s so blinded by it she doesn’t see
anything
else about him. An
artist
for her, yes, of course. She certainly
is
her father’s daughter.” She swept past them up the stairs. “Please, do come up, then.” Her tone was once again measured and tight. “Viktor’s study is at the end of the hall at the top of these stairs. Feel free to leave your coats on the table, there, the butler will be by shortly to deal with them.”

Playful, brightly coloured salamanders frolicked cheerily inside the lanterns lining this hall, flicking their long, fiery tongues as the three of them passed. Chris described them in his book as
scaled with yellow blue and violet beautiful creatures
, though he doubted Olivia would have any need of the information.

The Duchess pulled a large brass key from her pocket as they walked along the lush ivory carpeting. “An antique lock on his door,” she said. “It was one of his little things, since he turned to the arts. He romanticized the old world before categorization, the time of true wizards and real magic. He couldn’t even accept the present, much less the future.”

She stopped before a door, considerably more scratched and older than the others, fitting the key into the antique lock. She turned it and it
clunk
ed twice as the tumblers fell. Upon withdrawing the key, she gave it a tiny, sad smile. “It is quaint,” she murmured, barely audible. Then she pushed the door open and they stepped through.

Do you have a strong stomach?
Olivia’s voice echoed in his memory.

Duke Viktor val Daren had been a handsome man in life. That much, Chris could tell. His hair was faintly silvered black; his face was chiseled and smooth. Chris assumed the eyeglasses discarded on the desk in the corner were the Duke’s, and they would have suited him very well in a time before he was hanging from the rafters.

Someone had wrenched his arms back behind him far enough to pull them out of their sockets, back and
up
, and then bound them at the wrist. The rope was tied to the rafters and the Duke was left to hang there by the two barely connected threads that were his arms. The sleeves of his simple white shirt had been removed, revealing a long cut from wrist to armpit on both arms. Those wounds seemed clean compared to the long slash sliced across his neck, ear to ear. Blood had burst forth, soaking through the armless white shirt, his waistcoat, and his trousers, splashing on the floor below in a great crimson river.

Hung like a pig in the window of a butcher shop. Chris reached for the wall to steady himself as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. He gulped and fumbled for his notebook. He needed a clear head to write down the most horrible thing he’d ever seen in full, colourful detail.

The Duchess could barely look, and Chris felt the same, but Olivia seemed unaffected. She stepped forward, peering closely, inspecting the body. She walked a circle around it, hands folded behind her back, looking like a buyer inspecting an animal before making a purchase.
Deathsniffer
, he reminded himself. She must have seen worse, though he couldn’t imagine it. He wondered what she smelled.

“This is how I found him,” the Duchess said, her voice thick. “I locked the door immediately after. I haven’t let Ana see, or the servants. This is
not
how I want Viktor remembered. Whatever faults he may have had, he was my husband, and I loved him.”

“Have you touched anything?” Olivia asked.

throat opened, knife wound? so much blood feet dangling above ground how could anyone do this Gods there’s somuch blood
, Chris weaved.

“Nothing,” the Duchess said.

Olivia stopped in front of the hanging meat, leaning in close. “You’re sure?”

“…yes,” the Duchess said.

“And
no one
else has been in here?”

“I am certain no one has.”

Olivia sighed. She turned to the Duchess, her face as pleasant as if they were on a morning walk. “When people lie to me,” she chirped, “I tend to assume guilt. I’ve found I’m usually right! This is the
second
time today you’ve lied to me, Duchess. It’s not looking very good for you.”

The Duchess met her piercing gaze, and Olivia broke their eye contact to shrug with exaggerated flippancy. “Well, suit yourself. I don’t have all day to waste on a staring contest. I’ll spell it out for you.” She reached out a hand, and, to Chris’s utter shock, placed it on the hanging corpse’s groin, fingers splayed out. “You see here, Duchess?”

The Duchess said absolutely nothing, though her face had gone grey.

“The blood here isn’t like the rest,” Olivia said, as though what she were doing was totally natural. And perhaps it was, under the circumstances. “It didn’t hit this side of the fabric.” And then, before Chris could register what she could possibly mean, the Deathsniffer was tugging at the button, and then the laces of his trousers, opening them up, ignoring the Duchess’s sharp intake of breath. She spread open both sides of the opening, and―

Chris turned his gaze away, focusing on the book, his face burning. He couldn’t even tell what he was weaving onto the page; he was sure it wasn’t anything useful, but it was better than looking.

“Now why would there be so much blood
here
if this was all snug inside?”

“
Miss
Faraday―” The Duchess’s voice was shrill with protest.

“Oh,
honestly
, it may have been awhile, but you do have a child together. The secret is out, you’ve seen it before. Let’s not ignore what’s
really
important, here.”

Duchess val Daren made a strangled sound.

“Did you tuck him back in, then, Duchess? Or has someone else been in the room after all? And recently, oh yes, this was all moved after the blood had dried. The killer couldn’t have done it, not unless they came back hours later.”

“I―” The Duchess cut herself off in midsentence. “I didn’t think it would make any difference.”

“
Really
? Why do you think we want to see the place where the crime was committed? For a lark? The scene tells the story of the murder, Duchess, and
really
, this story becomes much more interesting when your husband’s ducal willy is hanging out! Come now. You’re not a stupid woman.”

The Duchess continued to keep her silence, though her breathing was uneven.

“And didn’t you just say you had
no
reason to believe he was sleeping with anyone? This would certainly plead otherwise! I find it―”

Finally, Duchess val Daren found her voice. “This family,” she said sharply, “is based on appearances. Our place—
my
place in society is entirely dependent on appearing above the common rabble. It’s going to be difficult enough maintaining peerage with my husband strung up in his study, butchered like a cow. If anyone should know he died like
this
? The val Daren name would never recover! I act in the interests of my family. Me, my daughter, even Viktor. As soon as
one
person knows he”―she broke off, gathered herself, plunged on―“he was found like this, a tip goes to a reporter and it’s in the papers by tomorrow morning. Surely even commoners like yourselves can understand!”