such heavy feet,” Grace said, rubbing her toes through her buttoned boots. “I’d have been trampled by them if Davey hadn’t noticed me. Why did you ask me to watch the crowd?”
“Yes, I think Davey has taken notice of you, to say the least,” the doctor said, lurching forward as the carriage moved into motion. “As for my request, I believe our killer is a planner and an intelligent one at that. Some of that ilk return to the scene of the crime. They rather enjoy watching the police bumble about, not knowing the person they seek is a stone’s throw away. Now, quickly, tell me what you gathered while it’s fresh in your mind.”
“The body wasn’t moved,” Grace said. “The grass around her was crushed as if there had been a struggle.”
“I noticed that as well. However, we don’t know how many people passed close to the body even before the city’s finest could be called. Judging by the crowd, a good many. We can’t be sure she wasn’t killed elsewhere.”
“If she were moved it’s a much more complex picture,” Grace went on. “There’s a railway nearby, a river, a road, even a footpath leading out of the park. The killer could’ve used any number of means.”
“Very true. What else?”
“Her clothes were . . .” Grace fumbled for words, unsure how to continue. She pictured the girl, her skirts a confused pile of twisted fabric. “She was in a disarray. As if she were a doll in the hands of a child who is too young to dress it properly.”
“Or someone who didn’t know how to handle women’s clothes,” Thornhollow added.
“A man, then?”
“Most definitely. But continue.”
Grace closed her eyes, bringing the picture to full light under the darkness of her lids. “She had no clear marks of violence on her arms or wrists, indicating that she didn’t fight off her attacker. So she knew him well enough to not believe she was in any danger, or in the least, trusted him.
“There were pine needles in her hair, yet her face and hands were quite clean, as were her fingernails. She was hygienic by nature so the needles tell us that she was . . . was on her back for a period of time, most likely in the park as that’s the only place I see pines nearby.”
Grace’s brow furrowed in concentration, her eyes screwing even more tightly closed. “If she was moved, she was not dumped or tossed carelessly aside. She was arranged almost comfortably. Ankles crossed, hands folded across her abdomen. Her eyes were left open. I can almost believe a few people walked past her thinking it was simply a girl relaxing in the grass at the end of the day. All in all, she was very lifelike.”
“Lifelike, indeed. What does this say?”
Grace opened her eyes, unsure past the details she could recite from the picture in her head. “That the killer had remorse? He wishes she weren’t dead?”
“Maybe. But I’m afraid that’s too simple for this scenario. Your earlier comment strikes much closer to the truth.”
“I said she was clean,” Grace said, ticking her fingers with each point. “That she was laid out with her comfort in mind, and that she was dressed awkwardly.”
“‘As if she were a doll’ were your exact words,” Thornhollow repeated, raising his voice to contend with the clatter as they passed over the stone bridge toward home.
“A doll,” Grace echoed, picturing male hands fumbling with the delicate buttons of the girl’s skirt, clumsiness and nerves botching the job. Yet even in his haste he’d covered her. “He’s not familiar with women, but there’s a degree of respect at work. He could’ve tossed her aside, left her naked for everyone to see, but he didn’t.”
“All true,” Thornhollow agreed. “You’ve seen almost everything.”
“With the glaring exception of how she died,” Grace pointed out. “No bruising, no bullet, no blood. She wasn’t strangled, shot, or stabbed.”
“None of those things. Which is what makes this so much more interesting than our last outing.”
“And?” Grace prodded.
“Ether,” the doctor said, his face eerily lit by the gaslights of the asylum as they pulled into the drive. “It has a distinctively sweet smell, and she was rank with it. A strong dose would paralyze her lungs and she would float off to her death, much like a deep sleep during which one simply stops breathing.”
“You make it sound almost desirable.”
“It would be, honestly, in comparison to some. But what’s important here is not how you or I—or