The Ill-Fated Fortunes of a Steampunk Madam VIII: Thunder

The pounding of the authorities on the door was like sudden thunder in Fiona's head. The household spirits were in a tizzy, and the crows were restless and noisy. She could barely focus enough to answer the questions that the investigators asked. Barely registered as the medicals gently removed the physical remains of Mrs. Leonard.

In the end, Fiona managed to tell the investigators all she knew about the situation. Mrs. Leonard had been a client for years and years. Recently, she'd become concerned about her husband's behavior, convinced that he was keeping things from her. This had been prior to their wedding anniversary, for which he'd been planning a surprise party. And today, she had shown up, uncharacteristically, and told Fiona about dreaming of murder.

She told of finishing tea, but left out Mrs. Leonard's last moments of self-pity. No one needed to know that the poor old woman had died feeling useless, helpless, and old. It was the least she could do -- the last she could do -- for Mrs. Leonard.

The real mystery, however, was not Mrs. Leonard. Certainly, no one could imagine why someone would want to shoot a woman like Mrs. Leonard. But, at least they knew who she was. The same could not be said for the dissicated remains outside the window.

That it was a man was obvious from the whiskers on the mummified face. But he carried no identification, and nothing about his clothing was remarkable. He bore no tattoos or scars. At least, none that could be easily discerned on the dry, tanned leather of his outer remains.

No one knew who he was, or what he was doing there. In fact, they only knew two additional things about him. First, they knew how he died for the old house's protective enchantments were deep and strong...and registered with the local Magica Magistrate. And second, based on the pistol found in his hand, they knew that it was he who shot Mrs. Leonard.