even she—wishes to die, but how the killer wanted her to die.”
“Quietly,” Grace said. “No marks. No blood.”
“He can almost pretend she’s alive,” Thornhollow said. “Yet she can’t berate or condescend. She can’t even ignore him.”
“No,” Grace said. “All she can do is lie there.”
“An ideal situation for our man,” Thornhollow said, his hand reaching for the carriage door. He handed her down, and Grace pushed the river rock of her voice back down into her belly, to be shared with no one else.
“One last thought, that I’d have you think on later—as I will. As you said, the girl’s clothes were mussed. If she’s a doll, he hasn’t familiarized himself with feminine wardrobe enough to dress her well. He also missed quite a few buttons, which makes me think he was in a haste and flustered. Yet to kill with ether shows planning at work. He intended to asphyxiate someone—maybe even her specifically—yet once it was carried out, his nerves got the best of him.
“And while the ether would kill our victim quietly, it doesn’t do so quickly. Ether has to be absorbed into the lungs, its effects weakening the body but still allowing for movement until a high dosage has been inhaled to render immobility. The girl was taken by surprise, but her killer would have to hold her quite still for a period of time while she struggled. He’ll be a large man, maybe even remarkably so.”
“I saw no one like that in the crowd,” Grace said. “I’m sorry, Doctor, it won’t be so easy as that.”
They climbed the stone steps together, listening to the crunch of the gravel as the driver took the carriage and horse back to the stables. Thornhollow dropped his hand to the front doors but halted Grace with a look before opening them.
“This was likely a first kill, Grace, and a somewhat botched one at that. Whatever his goal, I don’t think it was achieved tonight. And even if it was, this won’t be the last girl we find stinking of ether.”
“And why is that, Doctor?” Grace asked, giving her voice rein in the safety of the shadows.
“Because a killer who plans this kind of ritual never stops at one.”
TWENTY
“It’s a special day when I get to work on a fine head of hair like yours,” Mrs. Beem said as she dug her fingers into Grace’s scalp, massaging soap through her hair. “This is as nice of a mane as I could find down on the plaza, I tell you.”
“I wouldn’t go on bragging about yours,” Miss Chancey called from another chair, where Nell hung over a large sink, hair dripping. “My Irish lassie is as nice looking as any. I pile these black curls up on her head and she’ll look good as any queen.”
“Oh, aye,” Nell said proudly. “This ’ead o’ ’air is the pride o’ Ireland, and I’ll drape the braid over me tombstone when I go.”
“Now there’s a morbid picture.” Elizabeth tutted as she waited her turn, tugging somewhat nervously on her own hair. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” she asked for the third time. “String gets nervous around the clippers.”
“That’s only natural, dear,” Mrs. Beem said. “How many times have I done your hair and never once cut String?”
Grace peeked out of one eye while the rinse water rushed over her head to see Elizabeth was only slightly mollified. She was the only one of the three not utterly thrilled when the town hairdressers came up to the asylum for a monthly treat, trimming and styling the female patients’ hair. Grace relaxed under Mrs. Beem’s brush and comb, giving in to the ebb and flow. She closed her eyes and saw the girl from the night before, ankles primly crossed though her mussed skirts indicated some violence had been done.
“Our killer was unsuccessful,” Thornhollow had informed Grace that morning as he joined her on a morning walk around the grounds.
“On the contrary. His victim is dead,” Grace had said, pitching her voice low and keeping her face blank even though they walked alone.
Thornhollow cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that he was unsuccessful in his attempt to rape her. I visited the coroner this morning to see if anything more could be learned. The ether had mostly evaporated at that point so he disagreed with me on cause of death, but I hold to my conclusion. Ether is highly combustible, very tricky to mix. Only the most skilled surgeons and doctors would have access