Oliver and Juliet took the Brasslantis Grand Express straight to the summit of the floating city. Juliet's nerves grew with each fraction of a degree the train climbed, winding around the city as it crept toward the top.
"Oliver," Juliet said. "Deckerton is still out there, do you think he'll go into hiding?"
"It's hard to know what a murderer will do," Oliver said as he pulled out his pipe. "Unless you're me, the greatest detective to ever live."
Juliet rolled her eyes. "Alright, then let's talk about how we will approach Dappersby with our findings. Deckerton's motive is clear, he's jealous of Professor Stirlingwell's success where he failed."
A harsh scoff from a man behind her caused Juliet to turn. A handsome older gentleman with a cane, an eyepatch, and silver at his temples. Her eyes widened as she plucked a fan from her corset, waving it over herself dramatically.
"Oliver!" Juliet hissed, turning back to her companion subtly. "Do you see that man?"
Juliet glanced again, as subtly as she could over her flittering fan. The man in the seat behind them was poorly covering himself behind a copy of today's Brasslantis Gazette, peeking over the top of it in a comically large pair of fake glasses that did not really sit well against his eyepatch. His steam-powered cane sat nest to him on the seat.
"What man?" Oliver asked, looking behind them with a frown.
"Not so obviously, Oliver!" Juliet whispered behind her fan. "That man behind the newspaper, it's Mortimer Deckerton, The killer!"
Oliver looked again, studying the figure flipping through the pages of the business section.
"Deckerton doesn't wear glasses," Oliver scoffed. "Juliet, you need to be more observant."
"Are you serious?" Juliet snapped her fan shut and poked Oliver in the chest with it. "You haven't been willing to listen to me all day, and this detective bit has gone on long enough!"
The train slowed to a stop, nearly unnoticeable from its usual pace along the tracks. Juliet stood in a huff, shoving her fan back in her bodice as she marched out of the train. Oliver followed, trying to figure out how he solved this case with such an irritable female underfoot.
The Great Clock Square was the largest public space near the summit of Brasslantis. The train station took up one full side of it, and many other official buildings sat in the square. City hall, the library, and most importantly for the purpose of this story, the Brasslantis Police Department.
The BPD was crowded, but Juliet Titania Katherine Desdemona Montague would not be intimidated by a crown. Straightening her elaborate goggles, smoothing her skirts while avoiding the steam-powered buttons, and lifting her chin, Juliet pressed forward with a still-baffled Oliver in her wake.
"Excuse me," Juliet said softly but firmly to a loitering couple in the BPD doorway. "I must get through immediately."
The couple turned to look at Juliet, startled. The gentleman blushed lightly under his neatly waxed mustache. "Oh, sorry there. But you see, the famous Professor Quimby Stirlingwell is in there! It seems he's been arrested for something or other."
"Yes," his companion agreed. "I do wonder if an autograph would be out of the question? I know he's in jail and all, but I don't know when I'll get another chance to meet him. He's remarkable, isn't he?"
The woman swooned, and Juliet rolled her eyes. As if Quimby would fall for such cheap feminine tricks, no matter that she herself had been using them on him for the last year.
"I am not here for such frivolous notions as that," Juliet grumbled. "Let me through this instant, I have important information on the case that would clear Professor Stirlingwell's name!"
The couple stepped away in surprise, and Juliet marched inside.
The police station was simply decorated in marble and brass. Officers were milling about the room, and Oliver was the first to spot Dappersby's desk.
"There," Oliver said, pointing. "It's finally time for my big reveal!"
Oliver pushed forward, pulling out his pipe and now a houndstooth deerstalker cap from who-knows-where. Juliet had little time to marvel at Oliver's ever-growing collection of detective gear before they were at the desk of Chief Dappersby Gogglegear.
The chief himself was seated with a few of his officers around him. One of them was presenting him with a gift box.
"Open it, Chief!" the younger officer urged. "Happy fifth anniversary as chief, Chief!"
Dappersby beamed, or at least he was probably pleased under his considerable handlebar mustache as far as anyone could really tell.
"Thanks, boys," Dappersby said as he tore into the crisp white paper. "You shouldn't have."
He opened the box, pulling out a pocket watch with d.g. engraved on it in elegant, but lower case, letters.
"Er, what's this with the letters?" Dappersby asked.
"Oh, it's all the rage, Chief," one of the other officers said. "Lower case letters are the new upper case letters. For initials, anyway."
"Hmm, I see," Dappersby said, then he looked up and noticed Oliver. The chief frowned, setting down his new watch.
"Ambrose, what are you doing here?" he asked.
Oliver chuckled, tapping the mouthpiece of his pipe on his chin. He had been standing nearby, practicing his entrance for when he was finally noticed while Juliet rolled her eyes at him.
"Police Chief Gogglegear," Oliver said, taking a dramatic step forward. "I've solved the case!"
Dappersby looked at him blankly for a moment. "What do you mean you've solved a case? You're not one of my detectives."
"I hate to bother you, Chief, but he is a rather famous detective." One of the doctors that had examined Phoebe's body spoke up from a doorway at the back of the station.
"Yeah, everyone knows about detective Ambrose," a civilian crowding the doorway of the station shouted.
Several officers around Dappersby were murmuring their agreement.
"Yes, he's the best detective in the universe. Even I have heard of him, and I've been in prison!"
Juliet and Olvier startled to hear the voice of Professor Stirlingwell himself, standing behind a barred cell in a hideous orange jumpsuit. It wasn't even steam-powered! He also had a rough patch of five 'o clock stubble and several fresh tattoos that he hadn't had at the University auditorium just that morning.
"Professor?" Juliet questioned. "How could you possibly have gotten all those tattoos in a few hours? And... why is the jail cell right in the middle of the police station? Is that normal?"
Professor Stirlingwell looked down at this tattooed arms, noticing a small flaw and pulling a blue pen from his pocket to correct it.
"Prison life is very difficult, Juliet dear," the professor said. "I don't expect you to understand my way of life."
The exchange was interrupted by Oliver smacking a hand on Dappersby's desk. "The point is, Captain Gogglegear, that I have solved your case for you."
Dappersby, still looking quite confused, just nodded. "Okay, boy, let's hear it."
Oliver took on a smug expression, standing back and pausing for effect. "I knew something was off when the professor revealed his invention at the event. Why would a man as brilliant as Professor Stirlingwell reveal his victim right there for everyone to see? It made no sense."
The officers in the room were all bobbing their heads in agreement.
"Upon inspection of the victim, one Phoebe Lushington, it was discovered that the murder weapon was a knife!" Oliver continued. "A knife with the initials m.d."
"We found the murder weapon?" Dappersby stood from his desk, looking angrily around the station.
"Oh, yeah," one of the doctors called from their examination room at the back. "Forgot to tell you, sorry Chief. We were on tea break."
"Now, most people would mistake the m.d. for the initials P.W. since they were lower case. But not me, I knew what they really meant."
Juliet rolled her eyes. "Get on with it!"
Oliver sighed. "You have no instinct for drama, do you?"
She clared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "The murderer is Quimby's old friend turned to enemy, the disgraced inventor Mortimer Deckerton!"
"Lies!"
The room gasped. Juliet and Oliver whirled to see who spoke against their accusation. An aging gentleman, with a brass cane, an eyepatch, and a comically large pair of glasses stood in the doorway.
"Deckerton!" Juliet snapped. "I knew it was you following us!"
"That's not Mortimer Deckerton," Professor Stirlingwell said. "I'd know him anywhere, we were like brothers at one time."
Juliet marched right up to the gentleman in the station and yanked off his glasses.
The room gasped again.
"Mortimer!" Professor Stirlingwell cried. "It really was you! But... why?"
"Fine!" Deckerton cried. "It was me, alright? But I'll never give my revealing monologue so easily, you'll have to catch me first!"
Deckerton turned on his heel and ran out of the station. He was surprisingly spry for a man who needed a cane to walk.
Juliet and Oliver exchanged a glance, then ran off after him.
The chase was on!