The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Menace (9 page)

“
Well, I found who
placed the pennies
on Hobbs’ eyes.” She hurriedly explained about the meeting with
Lovecraft, trying to ignore her feelings. “Hobbs and Nelly have
known each other quite a long time.”

“
Nobody seems to know her
true
name,” Garrett replied. “I’ve
been asking around. As far as the theatre is aware, Nelly’s her
stage name, but it’s also the only one they know her by. So no use
trying to track where she came from before she joined up a year or
so ago, damn it.”

“
We’ll see if we can track Hobbs’ people then. There might be
some relation between them. Or perhaps he was her beau?”

Garrett
grimaced. “Actually, I believe that honor belongs to Lord Rommell.
Or at least, he was paying her to be his mistress.”

“
Really?” Of all the people for Nelly to accept... Perry
screwed up her nose. “Come on. There’s a cryptograph downstairs I
want Fitz to have a look at, and Hobbs’ ledgers. Maybe there shall
be some mention of Nelly there, once we’ve decoded them. You can
help me with some of the heavy lifting.” Tapping his biceps, she
added, “It is what you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“
I also think occasionally,” Garrett replied, lowering himself
through the trapdoor. “You stay up here, and I’ll pass up what you
need. No point both us getting locked below if your handsome friend
happens to return.”

“
True.” Perry’s smile died as he vanished through the
trapdoor. She was feeling a little breathless again, and somewhat
weary of trying to keep a smile on her face when inside she felt
like a tumultuous mess when he was around.

What in blazes
was she going to do about this?

CHAPTER
SIX

APPLAUSE
ERUPTED through the theatre as the actors took their bows.

Garrett idly
scanned the crowd.

The play’s
first night had been a smashing success. Though both he and Perry
had been in attendance - just in case - there’d been nothing to
indicate anyone taking an unnatural interest in Miss Radcliffe.
Rommell had reigned supreme, up in the boxes, and the director and
his staff had rushed about like a stirred anthill.

“
What do you think about that?” Perry murmured, her eyes
locked on something up in the boxes.

Rommell’s box,
to be precise. The theatre was emptying as people streamed toward
the exits, but several other aristocrats had joined Rommell. He
appeared to be in a heated argument with one of them, stabbing a
finger in the man’s face and snarling.

Interesting
.

“
I’ll see if I can get closer,” he murmured, and Perry
nodded.

She didn’t
like confronting members of the Echelon. Though he knew there were
rumors of a female blue blood among the Nighthawks, both he and
Lynch took care to keep her separated from those who might take
offense at her gender. The Council of Dukes who ruled the city
might not do anything about it... but one couldn’t take that risk.
Being a rogue blue blood was a stiff hand to play in life, but
Garrett knew that he wasn’t in danger of being executed, or used as
an example. Perry however...

“
Watch your back,” he warned.

“
Always. I’ll keep an eye backstage.” She vanished into the
crowd.

Servants in
livery hovered outside the boxes as Garrett climbed the stairs. He
paused outside the door to Rommell’s box, listening intently.

“
...you pompous fool. If I’d wanted to make a play for your
mistress, then she’d be mine already.” A sneering kind of voice.
“I’d certainly set her up in higher standards than
this–”

“
You call that theatre you own a higher standard?” This from
Rommell. He laughed. “Please, Miss Tate would have laughed in your
face.”

“
Then why bother accusing me of stealing her away? If I’d
wanted her, I’d have paraded her out of here right beneath your
nose. You’d know all about it, Rommell.”

Rommell’s
voice darkened. “I know you offered her a place at the Highcastle!
I saw the note, don’t you dare–”

There was a
scuffling sound, and then someone else cracked out: “Gentlemen,
please.”

The door
jerked open, and Garrett stepped behind it as someone stormed out
of the box, a theatre cape swirling around his legs as he stalked
toward the stairs. The man didn’t even bother to look behind him,
and Garrett set out in pursuit.

Outside the
theatre, the fellow paused on the steps, and tugged his cheroot
case from his coat pocket as he gestured a servant to send for his
carriage. A match flared as he lit the cheroot, and Garrett took
his opportunity.

“
My lord?”

The fellow
looked up. His eyes were a pale, pale blue, and his skin ashen, a
sign that revealed high craving virus levels. The longer one was
afflicted with the craving virus, the paler their coloring became,
until they hovered on the verge of the Fade: a moment in time when
the craving virus finally overwhelmed a man and they became
something more... Something entirely predatory, and driven only by
the thirst for blood.

Vampires had
torn apart the city on more than one occasion. The Echelon had
since decreed that a blue blood’s CV levels were to be strictly
monitored. The moment they reached seventy percent, the matter was
to be reported to authorities as a risk. Any higher, and that blue
blood faced execution, before they could begin to devolve into
their vampiric state.

Whoever he
was, Garrett suspected the fellow was staring the Fade in the
eye.

“
Garrett Reed, of the Nighthawks.” He flashed his
identification and Nighthawk badge, gaslight gleaming off it. “A
word, if I might?”

The lord
froze, smoke curling around his nostrils as he slowly breathed out.
“Harrison Cates, Lord Beckham. What do you want?”

“
Miss Tate’s disappearance.” Garrett put the badge away. “You
seemed to know something about it?”

Beckham
exhaled smokily, almost a laugh. “Did Rommell set you upon me?”

“
No, I overheard some of the conversation taking place
upstairs.”

The man
shrugged. “Like I told Rommell, if I’d wanted to take his mistress
from him, I would have. With the coin the Veil is sucking from his
pockets, I could have bought her thrice over.”

“
You own another theatre?” Garrett jotted down the man’s words
in his notebook.

“
The Highcastle.” Pale eyes raked over the facade of the Veil,
a twist curling his lips. “Somewhat higher class than
this.”

Until then,
Garrett hadn’t realized that a man existed who thought more highly
of himself than Rommell did. “Yet, you attend the Veil
tonight?”

This time,
Beckham spread his hands. “Guilty as charged. I might have been
stirring the pot with Rommell. I’ve no interest in his mistress -
it’s not like she’s any connections or great wit - but it’s a
devilish fun time making him think I do.”

“
He spoke of a note...”

“
Yes, I offered her employment, and certain
other
... benefits.”
A smirk. “Then I had it delivered when I knew he was
around.”

“
You don’t by any chance send her flowers?”

“
I don’t send any woman flowers. Not even my mother.” A light
gleamed in Beckham’s eyes as if a thought struck. “Though, that
would have been more convenient than attending so many lacklustre
shows here, and Rommell would have suffered an apoplexy.” He
clapped a hand on Garrett’s shoulder and laughed. “Thank you, my
good fellow. That’s utter genius.”

There was
nothing here to be gained. Garrett asked a couple more questions,
then snapped his pocketbook shut. Beckham’s main interest seemed to
belong to Rommell. Indeed, if asked, Garrett had little doubt the
bastard would even know if Nelly were blonde or brunette. She was
simply a checker piece in play between the two lordlings.

“
That’s all, thank you, my lord,” Garrett said, seeing his
lordship’s horseless steam-carriage wheel up to the curb. The
gilded sigil on the door reminded him of a weasel - somewhat
appropriate considering who it represented.

“
Glad to be of help. Cheerio.” The lord waved behind him and
hopped up into his awaiting carriage in considerably good
humour.

Garrett turned
away in disgust. Where the devil had Nelly disappeared to? Without
a body, they had few leads, and every time he thought a new lead
presented itself, it turned into a dead-end.

Unless they
pursued the Hobbs angle instead. Perry’s photographic find today
had offered more proof of a relationship of some sort there, than
anything else. He was convinced the two cases were connected.

Now, he just
had to discover what had happened to poor Nelly.

Garrett walked
through Miss Radcliffe’s small three-room apartment and then turned
and nodded at her. “It’s clear.”

Miss Radcliffe
had been hovering in the doorway whilst he performed his search.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she said, brushing a lock of hair
behind her ear. “I truly do appreciate it.”

“
Part of the job,” Garrett replied with the type of insincere,
professional smile that was easy to call up. Damn Perry, but he
felt uncomfortable here, when he shouldn’t. She was the one who’d
suggested he walk Miss Radcliffe home, and though he wasn’t doing
anything wrong, he felt like he was.

All because of
their argument.

“
I’ll leave you to it, Miss Radcliffe,” he said. “If you need
us, please send a note to the Guild. I’ve checked the locks - you
should be safe tonight - but don’t hesitate to call upon us, if
something unnerves you.”

“
Eliza,” she corrected, her hesitant gaze meeting his. “You
may call me Eliza, if you wish. And thank you.”

Garrett turned
toward the door, but she caught his sleeve. He glanced down.
“Yes?”

Furious heat
bloomed in her cheek and she clutched her violet colored coat tight
to her front. “Thank you. Again.” Somewhat awkward and sweet. He
knew what she was intending to do almost before she acted.

Miss Radcliffe
reached up, and pressed her lips against his cheek. The faint scent
of her perfume enveloped him and his body tensed, desire bubbling
just beneath the surface. If he turned his face, he’d be able to
brush his mouth against the trembling pulse that was visible in her
throat, perhaps even nip her there. It aroused the darker side of
his nature, the part of him that was purely a predator. A blue
blood was always tempted by thoughts of blood and sex, though he’d
found his own hungers manageable in the past.

But then,
Perry had been pissing him off lately. He was already on edge, and
strong emotions only exacerbated the hunger’s grip.

Thoughts of
her acted like a dash of cold water to the face.

He withdrew,
clearing his throat. “Miss Radcliffe–”

“
Eliza,” she insisted, her dark eyes shining in the
candlelight. So damned tempting...

Garrett shot
her a rueful smile. “Perhaps after this is done, I might call you
‘Eliza’. Until then... it wouldn’t be very professional of me.”

Despite the toll the last two days had taken upon her, she
drew back and nodded, understanding him perfectly. “And when
this
is
done,
Detective Reed?”

Their eyes
met.

He shouldn’t.
It would only reinforce Perry’s suspicions of his handling of this
case, and that irritated him. Damn her to hell. He was handling
this as professionally as he could. He was entitled to his own
diversions, in his own time... and Miss Radcliffe was lovely,
intelligent and intriguing.

He shouldn’t
encourage this. He knew he shouldn’t. And yet he couldn’t help
picturing Perry’s stern, disapproving face in his mind when he
leaned closer and murmured, “Perhaps, when this is done, you might
be available to show me more of the theatre. As an audience member,
instead of actress?”

Perry was a
spur he didn’t need, but a part of him wanted to blandly look her
in the eye after the case was finished, and tell her that he
intended to take Miss Radcliffe out to the theatre. To dare her to
say anything about it.

Miss Radcliffe
smiled sweetly. “Until then, Detective.”

CHAPTER
SEVEN

“
THERE HE IS,” Garrett murmured the next morning, nudging
Perry’s arm and tipping his chin toward the young lad who was
making his flower deliveries.

The young boy
had adapted a pneumatic steam-powered rickshaw into a flower cart
that he could ride, and as they watched, he swung his leg off the
seat and wheeled it up onto the kerb outside the theatre. He tipped
his cap to the stagehand waiting for the delivery, his grin
faltering when he saw the pair of them step out of the shadows near
the back alley.

“
A word, if we might?” Garrett asked, with a smile to set the
boy at ease.

“
Aye, what can I help you with?”

“
You often deliver red roses for Miss Nelly Tate. Do you know
who puts that order in?”

The lad scratched his head. “Pick ‘em up
from Welham’s
Florist. You’d have to
ask him. He’s the one as takes the orders.”

Excellent
. Garrett and Perry moved
off, following the directions the boy gave. For the first time,
Garrett felt as though they had a solid lead upon which to follow.
Nelly received flowers all the time, but only two posies were sent
to her regularly, which indicated someone – or two someone’s - with
a particular interest in her.