Thomas eyed the drawing on the board before answering, purposefully not looking in Uncle’s direction. “No one saw or heard a thing out of the ordinary, I’m afraid.”
I narrowed my eyes. Thomas didn’t sound very upset by this news.
“However,” he added, “I tagged along with the inspectors while they made some inquiries. Paltry as they might be. This one jester pelted me with questions regarding your work, but I didn’t offer much. Said he might call on you later this evening.” He shook his head. “Screws and gears were discarded near the body. And… a few witnesses have stepped forth.”
Uncle inhaled sharply. “And?”
“Unfortunately, the best description we received came from a woman who saw only a man from behind. She stated that the two of them were speaking, but she couldn’t make out more than the deceased agreeing to something. As she was a prostitute, I’m sure you can fill in the lurid details.”
“Thomas!” Uncle shot a glance in my direction; only then did my classmate acknowledge me standing in the room. “There’s a young lady present.”
I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Uncle Jonathan to worry about prostitution being too much for my feminine persuasion, yet think nothing of me seeing a body spliced open before I’d even had my luncheon.
“Sincere apologies, Miss Wadsworth. I hadn’t seen you there.” Thomas was nothing but a filthy liar. He cocked his head, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips as if he were privy to my thoughts. “I did not mean to offend you.”
“I am hardly offended, Mr. Cresswell.” I gave him a pointed look. “On the contrary, I am highly perturbed we’re even discussing such fatuous things when another woman has been slain so brutally.” I ticked off each injury on my fingers, accentuating my point. “Gutted with her innards tossed over a shoulder. Posed with her legs up, knees facing outward. Not to mention… her missing reproductive organs.”
“Yes,” Thomas agreed, nodding, “that was rather unpleasant, now that you mention it.”
“You speak as if you’ve witnessed it firsthand, Mr. Cresswell.”
“Perhaps I have.”
“Thomas, please,” Uncle scolded. “Do not goad her.”
I turned my annoyance on Uncle. “By all means, let’s continue wasting time speaking of my potential discomfort at her occasional profession. What is your issue with prostitutes anyhow? It’s not her fault society is so unjust to women.”
“I—” Uncle Jonathan stepped back, placing a palm to his forehead as if he might be able to rub my tirade out with a few soothing strokes. Thomas had the gall to wink at me over the cup of tea he’d poured himself.
“Very well.” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow at Uncle. “The young lady has made her case, Doctor. From this point forward I shall pretend she’s as capable as a man.”
I glared harder. “Pretend I am as capable as a man? Please, sir, do not value me so little!”
“Also,” he continued before I exploded, setting his teacup down on its matching blue and white Staffordshire saucer, “as we’re now treating each other like equals and peers, I insist on you calling me Thomas, or Cresswell. Silly formalities needn’t apply to equals such as we.” He grinned at me in a way that could be considered a flirtation.
Not to be outdone, I lifted my chin. “If that’s what you want, then, you’re permitted to call me Audrey Rose. Or Wadsworth.”
Uncle stared up at the ceiling rose, sighing heavily. “Back to our murder, then,” he said, removing spectacles from a leather satchel and securing them on his face. “What else have either of you got for me besides the promise of a splitting headache?”
“I have a new theory on why this act was more violent than the last,” I said slowly, a new puzzle piece slipping into place in my mind. “It occurred to me the scenes appear to be tainted with… revenge.”
For once, I held their attention—as if I were a corpse with secrets to divulge.
“During our lesson you said first-time killers most likely start by murdering those they know.” Uncle nodded. “Well, what if the murderer knew Miss Nichols and couldn’t really let himself go as wild as he’d hoped? It’s as if he wanted to exact revenge, but couldn’t bring himself to do it once it came down to it. Miss Nichols was not as viciously mutilated as Miss Annie Chapman had been, leading me to believe Miss Chapman was unknown to our murderer.”
“Interesting theory, Niece.” Uncle absently stroked his mustache. “Perhaps Miss Nichols was murdered by her husband or the man she was living with.”
Thomas took up my uncle’s favorite habit of pacing in a wide circle around the room. With each movement he made, the scent of formalin and bergamot wafted through the air, creating a strange aroma that was both unsettling and comforting.
“Why is he taking their organs, though?” he muttered to himself. I watched silently as the gears twisted and ground their way through the maze of his brain. He was fascinating to study, no matter how much I pretended to detest that fact.
As if a light had illuminated the dark, he snapped his fingers. “He has a deep hatred for women, for what they represent to him, or something from his past. Somewhere along the line, a woman disappointed him greatly.”
“Why attack prostitutes?” I asked, ignoring Uncle as he cringed at my improper word choice.
“First, they’re easy, opportunity-wise. They also follow men into dark places eagerly.” Thomas walked closer, his attention landing on me for the briefest moment before moving on to the cadaver. “Maybe he fears the threat they pose. Or perhaps he’s some sort of religious zealot, ridding the world of whores and harlots.”
Uncle slammed his hands down on the table, causing a specimen jar to slosh onto the wooden surface. “That’s enough! It’s improper enough to be teaching Audrey Rose such things, we needn’t use vulgarity in the process.”
I sighed. I’d never understand the way a man’s mind worked. My gender didn’t handicap me. Yet I was blessed that Uncle was modern enough to allow my apprenticeship with him, and so I would tolerate these minimal annoyances.
“I apologize, sir.” Thomas cleared his throat. “But I believe if your niece can handle dissecting a human, she can handle intelligent conversation without fainting. Her intellect, though nowhere near as vast as mine, may prove useful.”
Thomas cleared his throat again, preparing himself for Uncle’s backlash, but my uncle quietly relented. I couldn’t help staring, open-mouthed, at him. He’d actually defended me. In that annoying, roundabout way of his. But still. Seemed I wasn’t the only one experiencing growing respect.
“Very well. Do go on.”
Thomas glanced at me, then took a deep breath.
“He loathes these creatures of the night. Loathes they’re alive, selling themselves. I wager the one he loves or loved has likely left him. Perhaps he feels betrayed in a way.” Thomas picked his tea back up, taking a careful sip before setting it down again. “I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife or betrothed committed suicide—the ultimate act of leaving him.”
Uncle, returning quickly to his scientific mind-set, nodded. “He also feels he’s entitled to take what he wants. Literally. He paid for it, after all. In his eyes, he’s telling these woman exactly what he’s after, therefore they’re willing participants in his…”
“Murders.” A sick feeling tied bows in my stomach. Someone was running about the streets tricking women into agreeing to be butchered. “Is it possible he’s living out a fantasy?” I asked, thinking aloud. “Perhaps he’s trying to play God.”
Thomas almost fell over from stopping so short. He twisted on his heel and crossed the room in a few short strides. Clutching my elbows, he kissed my cheek, rendering me both speechless and scarlet.
My focus shot to my uncle as I touched my cheek, but he said nothing of this inappropriate behavior; his mind was latched on to murder.