The first thing the two noticed about the city was its head-spinning extremes. There was the buzzing excitement so typical of American society, but a thick haze of Southern comfort hung about, slow and warm like honey, softening the hard edge of city life. It was also a notable feat that in their rapidly growing industrial age the city managed to preserve its marbled history, an homage to the Parisian culture that gave it birth. Its socioeconomics, too, mirrored that of Europe's: the rich were beyond rich, wrapped in silk and dripping with diamonds, and the poor had little more to call their own other than the their self-appointed surnames. The two-horse carriage Ciel and Sebastian shared stopped outside of the small police station. The Butler exited first to lend a hand to his Master, and the merciless sun bore down on the poor thing as soon as he set foot on the cobblestone. Ciel pulled on his collar to loosen its hug around his neck and made a note that he would never again wear black so long as he was in New Orleans. Sebastian opened the door of the building and entered after the Earl.
The station was not at all like the ones the two had gotten so familiar with in London. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was almost barren and very square with wooden ceiling rafters, desks piled high with paperwork and only a few portraits of important looking individuals hung on the walls. The men on duty looked at the fancy foreigners and immediately began snickering behind their aloft papers. One in particular, a ruddy man with a broad-striped waistcoat and a cotton-like beard and moustache, took a few uncertain steps towards Earl and Butler.
"You wouldn't happen to be," the man said slowly, as though he were having trouble believing his eyes and finding the disbelief humorous, "Earl Phantomhive. Would you?"
Ciel kept calm but wondered just how ornately he would have to present himself to convince strangers of his nobility. "Yes, I am," he answered proudly.
The man he was speaking to put both hands over his chest like he was experiencing a heart attack. "My stars and garters!" he cried in his Southern drawl. "But you're so young!"
Unsure of and disinterested in how to reply, Ciel remained silent. The man shrugged his large shoulders and put forth his hand.
"I am Inspector Edwards," he introduced himself. "It's an honour to meet you, Earl Phantomhive."
"Likewise," Ciel said half-heartedly with an equally enthusiastic handshake.
"And who is this?" Inspector Edwards looked to the Butler.
"This is my butler, Sebastian," said Ciel. "He assists me in matters of this kind."
"Ah!" Inspector Edwards caught Sebastian mid bow with a vigorous handshake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance!" he said as he roughly shook his hand up and down. Sebastian received the greeting with the expected decorum as best he could, though he wasn't sure if he liked the attention. "Welcome to New Orleans!" the Inspector greeted them both. "Though I wish I were saying that under happier circumstances. Please, follow me." He beckoned them both and continued speaking as he lead them further into the building. "I was told to give you all the eerie details, as you are the best."
Ciel employed his humblest tone that he had perfected over the years, adding a raised hand and closed eyes to look ever more sincere. "Please. No need to use Her words."
"Oh, but I must!" the Inspector gushed. "For the Queen of England to send us her right underhand man! I'm humbled."
"What then about these deaths?" Ciel asked.
"Well, the first thing I know is that Mister Mitchell is beside himself with fear."
"Naturally."
"They were among his most regular customers!"
"Any foul play expected?"
"..." The Inspector hesitated as he brought them both into his office. Sitting behind his desk and gesturing to his guests to do the same at the available seats, he continued. "That's hard to figure. Logically there must be, but all roads lead to nowhere. The performers have been questioned, the cleaning staff interrogated, the kitchen employees grilled. Ha! Get it? Grilled?" The Inspector laughed more at his joke than either the Earl or Butler did. Actually, neither laughed at all but Edwards didn't seem bothered. "Ha-ha! Whew." He wiped a little water from the corner of his eye. "Huh. Yup. Say, either of you want something to wet your whistle?"
"No, thank you," Ciel said quickly.
"You sure? It's scorching out there. How 'bout some lemonade? Just take a minute to prepare."
"Really, it's fine!" After this temporary upset in manners, Ciel smiled kindly and said, "Truly, it's alright. I thank you for your hospitality, but we really must get to work as soon as possible. I am sure you understand."
"Yes, I do," said the Inspector. "If you insist. Anyway. They all checked out fine. They also vouched for the patrons, saying that none of them were anywhere near the victims at the time of their death. This also turned out to be true. And to top it off, the bodies were found clear of markings. No bruises, no cuts, no blood. Nothing even lodged in their airways."
"And yet they were suffocated?" Ciel asked.
"Perhaps it was smothering," Sebastian said under his breath.
Ciel nodded. "That's plausible," he agreed. "So as of this moment no one in particular is suspected? Not even the employees have an idea of who might be behind these killings?"
Inspector Edwards shifted in his chair and suppressed a laugh. "Well," he began, adjusting his suspenders beneath his waistcoat, "they do have a theory of their own, but it's so ridiculous I doubt you could even make something of it."
Sebastian and Ciel looked at each other with matching frowns. "Any information you have may be helpful," Sebastian said, "regardless of how far fetched it may seem."
The Inspector grinned and scoffed. "Alright! Well." He leaned forward and said confidentially, "They think it's a ghost."
Ciel's eyebrows inched upward. "A... ghost," he said.
Inspector Edwards couldn't hold his laughter anymore. In his jolly fit, he reminded Ciel a bit of Santa Claus. "Yup, that's their story. And they're sticking to it, boy." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "No matter how many times we ask them if they've seen any shady behaviour, they always just go back to the supernatural business."
"What is their reasoning for believing this?" Sebastian asked.
Both Earl and Inspector looked to the Butler with shock. "Sebastian," Ciel started, "you can't possibly be entertaining this."
"Any small detail may prove valuable, my Lord," Sebastian explained patiently.
Inspector Edwards kept quiet for a few moments to be sure of the Butler's curiosity, but obliged once he saw that the strange man was quite serious. "They say that the place is crawling with ghosts," he began, "but that there's one in particular who's kind of the Head of otherworldly affairs. They call her the Mistress. They believe she's the spirit of a former slave who has come to wreak havoc on the foreign white men who have caused her pain."
"I'll take the guess that all of the victims were European tourists then," Sebastian said.
"... Yes," the Inspector said slowly. "How did you know that?"
"Like I said, any small detail may prove valuable," the Butler repeated himself.
Ciel considered this and said, "Macabre of a request it may be for me to make, Inspector, is it possible for us to view the bodies for ourselves?"
The Inspector was startled by the child's coldness. "Why on earth would you need to do that?"
"To confirm the cause of death," Ciel said.
The Inspector frowned and leaned back in his chair, crossing his rough hands over each other. "The cause of death has already been confirmed, Earl Phantomhive," he said sternly. "Or don't you find the word of our coroner trustworthy?"
"That isn't what I'm saying," Ciel tried to be polite, "it's only that-"
"It's only that you don't think us legitimate enough!" the Inspector snapped. A very uncomfortable silence followed. "Listen," Edwards' voice cooled. "I didn't mean to shout. These freakish deaths have made things a little rough around here lately." He looked down for a moment to still himself before looking to Ciel again. "The coroner is a solitary man with many peculiar quirks, but I'll ask him if you can see them. If anything, he'll be able to show you their medical histories at least."
"Thank you very much, Inspector," Ciel said with a small bow of his head. "And don't worry," he added. "We are very used to dealing with eccentric undertaking types." That time it was the Earl and his Butler laughing without the Inspector. "I do have another request, if I may," Ciel said. "I will also need to see the police records of the business before Mister Mitchell's ownership of it."
"That I can do for you," Edwards replied with some delay, "but how can those help?"
Ciel shrugged. "History has the tendency to repeat itself."
"I'll be sure to get those to you then."
"If we may take them now?" Ciel said. "We must be sure that you aren't trying to hide anything from us." He kept a jesting tone, but that, too, was a practiced façade. The Inspector nodded and stood from his chair. Beside his desk was a maple filing cabinet covered in water-discoloured stains. He rifled through several folders before removing the one being discussed. Even in the outstretched hand, Ciel saw that it was dubiously thin and his confusion only grew when he felt its lightness in his own hands.
"This is it?" he asked.
"Yes, well," Edwards puffed as he settled back into his chair, "the building was an ordinary residency most of its existence."
"Does this include its plantation history as well?" Ciel asked as he opened the skinny file.
"If you want to see those, you'll have to get cozy with his family," the Inspector said, sounding a touch impatient. "Things like that are property of the descendants."
"Alright." Ciel kept his temper as he stood, but he could not suffer working with the secretive and difficult. "I believe that we have enough evidence to sift through for the time being," he said. "Thank you for your cooperation."
Edwards stood and put out his hand again. "No trouble at all, Earl Phantomhive." He smiled and something about it seemed as fake as the one Ciel wore, almost as though he were secretly mocking the English royal.
"We'll be in touch to arrange that meeting with the coroner?" Ciel clarified.
Edwards kept shaking Ciel's hand as he answered with surprise. "Ah! That's right! Yes, yes, we'll be in touch."
Finally, he released his grip and Ciel was able to write his information on a business card provided by Sebastian. "This is the name and number of the hotel where we're staying." He gave the Inspector the card and smiled again. "We hope to hear from you soon!" he said.
"That you will," Edwards gave the same smile in return. He then walked the two foreigners to the entrance and showed them out. Ciel felt that he closed the door behind them too deliberately, taking care not to make any sound.
"That was a bit obvious, was it not?" Sebastian asked once he was sure that they were alone.
Ciel squinted against the sun's rays and said, "Might as well give him credit for trying. We'll keep an eye on them. Oh, and about the bodies-"
"No need for worry, my Lord," Sebastian said. "I will look into it for myself should the Inspector, ahem, fail to secure an appointment."
"Good," Ciel said. "Well, we should get to looking through these right awa-"
The little Earl stopped mid sentence and mid step. Sebastian meant to ask him what had his attention enraptured so until he followed his Master's line of vision to the distraction in question. It was a beautiful young lady in the full bloom of womanhood with deep olive skin and raven curls to the top of her tight laced waist. She wore a full gown of true violet, a somewhat loud colour choice for the afternoon, and a multitude of fine gold necklaces. A small purple and white spotted orchid nestled against her cheek, its stem tucked behind her left ear. She approached Ciel and Sebastian knowingly, sportively.
"Pardon me, sirs?" she inquired with something of a Spanish accent.
"Yes, miss?" Sebastian said because Ciel kept his silence.
"Are you Earl Phantomhive?" the girl asked, glancing up at Sebastian with bright doe eyes. She had a cheeky of speaking. Though her words were clear, her voice was low in pitch and soft in tone, meant to draw her listener closer.
"No. That would be me," Ciel said, finally finding his voice.
"Oh?" The girl was surprised for a moment but calmed herself and curtsied daintily. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Catarina. I am to give you this." She pulled forward a ruby covered purse and retrieved a powdered mauve envelope from inside. "This is your invitation," she said.
Ciel took the envelope into his gloved hands and his senses were kissed with the enchanting scent of jasmine. "Invitation?" he said. As he meant to pull the envelope open, the pretty messenger stopped him.
"I must ask you do not open that here," Catarina said, cupping Ciel's hands with both of hers. She waited for his gaze to meet her own to say, "It is for your eyes only." She allowed her stare to linger long enough so as not to be lascivious, but plenty intimate that it would be remembered.
"And where is my invitation?" Sebastian interrupted playfully.
Catarina pressed her forefinger into her cheek and pursed her lips. "Hmm..." she thought. Then her eyes lit up. "Ah!" She removed the orchid from her hair and slipped it into the buttonhole on Sebastian's lapel, standing on her toes to do so. Again, she let her eyes and fingers rest a bit longer than socially acceptable before she glided away. "We'll be seeing each other tonight then, gentlemen," she cooed. As she walked away, she drew the stare of everyone in the street and returned not a one except those of the two she left behind.
They stood quietly for a moment, Sebastian stroking the orchid's silken petals and Ciel touching the envelope to his nose to breathe in the delicious floral perfume. Sebastian looked down at his intrigued little Lord and chuckled.
"La Luxure Royale," he said with flourish.
Ciel snapped back to action and glared at him. "Shut up," he said and began walking away.
"I am only saying the name of the club," Sebastian smirked.
"Shut up!" Ciel repeated, the heels of his shoes clicking louder as each step grew more irritated. He walked without aim to distance himself from embarrassment but Sebastian's words pulled him back.
"Are you following her, my Lord?" Ciel had his back turned, but he could hear that smile in the Butler's voice.
"No!" Ciel stopped fast and turned around. "I was only... looking for a place to have tea."
Sebastian approached Ciel with somewhat of a sauntering step. "Then now may be the perfect time to go for a promenade through the French Quarter," he suggested. He rested a hand between Ciel's shoulder blades and gently guided him forward. "Might I escort you to a most charming tea parlour on Magazine Street? It is but a hole in the wall, but its privacy makes it ideal to discuss such-" he pinched the Royale's history between his thumb and forefinger and lowered his voice- "classified documents."
Ciel allowed himself to be steered through the glamorous crowds, the perfume from the invitation attracting several meaningful looks, and the Butler whispering ghostly secrets in his ear.