Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit (5 page)

“Help how?” Desperately trying to straighten his scrambled thoughts, Pierce nudged her away from the console and began activating his system. “I don’t think we need a news story plastered over the front pages of the London papers. That’ll do nothing but bring us boatloads of gawkers.”

She flashed him a quick frown. “Of course not. I was thinking more about information.” She rested a palm against the shining wood which comprised the faceplate to the device. “Isn’t that why you have the Mark IV? So that you can get instant and up-to-date information?”

“Yes.” He flicked a few switches and connected the power, watching in satisfaction as lights turned on and the system began its happy hum. “Is that how you know about it?”

“Of course.” She moved to stand behind him as he seated himself in his chair and watched the initialization process complete itself. “I run a shipping company. I need accurate information as rapidly as I can get it.”

“Sorry. I forgot.” He gently adjusted dials.

“Many do.” The words were uttered in a dry tone of amusement.

“There.” Satisfied, he flipped open a small glass container, a half-tube which covered a slender brass mechanism with a round pad of the same metal affixed to the top of it. Without a moment’s thought he began tapping out a message.

With one part of his mind, he felt two hands rest on the back of the chair. Silence filled the room, broken only by the soft click of the telegraph key beneath his fingers. He finished the message.

“Another body found. At Edward’s in Yarmouth. More later.” Minnie quietly spoke the words he’d just sent over the telegraph.

“Good Lord.” He turned in his chair. “You can read that? Just by hearing the clicks?”

She stared steadily back at him. “Of course.
You
did.”

He shook his head. “I…um…”

Her eyes were clear, her expression intense as she looked down at him. “Don’t underestimate me, Pierce. I usually care little what people think of me, and I don’t worry if they assume breasts and dresses mean I’m fundamentally an idiot. However, for some reason, it’s becoming more and more important to me that you understand I’m
not
an idiot.”

“I can assure you I won’t make that mistake.” He met her gaze. “I’m not one of those people you describe. Breasts and dresses may distract me—I’m a man and therefore totally susceptible. But I don’t now, nor have I ever, associated those assets with intellectual abilities.” He took a breath, unable to avoid a frisson of pleasure at her scent, rich and womanly and oh-so-near… “Now. I have one link to The Parliamentarian in Fleet Street. Will that help you at all?”

“Yes. They’ll pass the message along.” She nodded. “Can I sit there?”

He rose and watched her take his seat, tucking her skirts out of the way and leaning in to the telegraph key as he adjusted the dials for her.

Her white lacy blouse glowed against the wood and the brass, her hair shone even more brightly than the dark mahogany of the console and she looked for all the world as if she belonged exactly where she was. As if the entire Mark IV had been designed with her in mind.

Blinking away the oddly fanciful notion, Pierce imitated her actions and listened as she placed her own message to London.

For Arthur O’Reilly, The Fleet Times, Urgent. Stop. Multiple deaths, Yarmouth vicinity, Isle of Wight. Stop. Women, death by strangulation. Stop. Please locate similar. Stop. Contact me here. Stop. Minnie. End Message.

“Are you sure that won’t set off some sort of reporter frenzy?” Pierce touched her on the shoulder. “I really don’t want the press messing around with this.”

She shook her head. “The Parliamentarian—which you link to—is not
that
sort of paper. Probably why you link to it.” She glanced at him and raised one eyebrow.

He nodded. “Point taken. And they’re discreet.”

“Secondly, these journalists and reporters—they’re sort of like a brotherhood. Whoever gets my message will send it to Arthur. Arthur, being the truly brilliant reporter he is, will know that I never contact him with silly rumors or false assumptions. He’ll do some digging and find out what he can.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s smitten with me.” She shrugged. “I’ve never encouraged him and he’s finally gotten himself a fiancée, but he’s still very fond of me. I like him too, but not
that
way. We seem to be getting onto more sound footing these days. Daisy is good for him…” She caught herself up. “But that’s neither here nor there. He was one of the few men who realized that I was legitimately interested in current events and had the mental capacity to understand them. So when I suggested we keep in touch, he agreed. The upshot has been that I’ve been able to slip him a couple of newsworthy scoops and he keeps me informed of anything that might impact Dalrymple Shipping.”

“Nicely symbiotic.”

“Indeed.” She nodded. “Now. Do you have a floating channel, by any chance?”

Biting back another little jolt of astonishment, Pierce nodded. “Here.” He pointed to a set of dials and knobs at the far side of the console. Still mentally reeling from her ability to decipher telegraph key-clicks into the words they represented, he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear her ask for one of the latest and most complex developments, only recently included as part of the Mark IV.

“Excellent.” She reached for the controls and paused. “May I?” Her glance over his shoulder clearly told him she was asking out of politeness and that she fully expected his answer to be yes.

Miss Minnie was turning out to be one surprise after another. He rather liked it.

“Yes.”

He watched, impressed with the facility she demonstrated as she adjusted the controls and selected settings. His eyebrows drew together as he attempted to place a location alongside the numbers she was using.

It was London, but more than that he couldn’t guess. “May I ask…”

“Who I’m contacting?” She finished his sentence. “Yes. In a minute.”

Chastised, he fell silent and waited. Could this woman be any more surprising? A tingle of arousal shot through him. Could she be any more attractive?

Well, yes. She could be naked and operating the Mark IV. Somewhat embarrassed at the direction his thoughts had taken, Pierce gave himself a mental scold and dragged himself back to the matter at hand.

Something else flashed into his head. Minnie had announced that the body she’d seen had been
strangled
. Another surprise to add to the list growing beneath her name.

The clicks of the telegraph key started, and Pierce silently translated them in his head.

Need your skills. Stop. Martinson will make arrangements. Stop. Come as soon as possible to Isle of Wight. Stop. Four murders so far. Stop. Minnie. End of message.

Disappointed, he wondered if she was sending for Roger, her rumored lover. Or someone else who would whisk her away from the rather appalling events.

She turned in the chair and pushed back from the console. “Thank you, Pierce. That will get matters underway. Between our sources, we may well be able to find out some information.” She stood and walked absently into the center of the room, staring at the ocean, her mind clearly busy on the current matters. “Four murders. It’s unusual for this area, I’m guessing?”

Pierce nodded, curious to find out where her thoughts were leading her.

“We must find out if there are any connections between the victims. And if there have been similar crimes reported elsewhere.”

“All the victims have been young women. All washed up along the northwest shores by the cliffs. None have been locals—two were reported as having been seen on the ferry to Cowes. The other was not identified. We’ll look into this latest one shortly.”

He sat in his favorite chair and joined her in staring out over the ocean. “All were, as you so accurately noted, strangled.”

She took the matching seat and stretched out her legs, crossing them at her booted ankles in a pose that was purely masculine, but on her looked completely right. “I’d guess they were prostitutes?”

“Why?”

“Unaccompanied young women, probably attractive on a certain level, no hue and cry raised when they went missing? It’s a logical assumption.”

“It is.”

“Well, perhaps we’ll find out whether there have been other incidents of this nature recently. When did the first body wash ashore?”

Pierce had a moment of surreal confusion. He was discussing a series of brutal killings, prostitutes no less, with an incredibly beautiful social butterfly. Who was anything
but
a butterfly and apparently possessed of a mind sharper than a steel trap.

He didn’t think there was much left in the world that could surprise him.

Miss Minnie was proving him wrong.

Chapter Three

Minnie’s mind was awhirl with ideas, possibilities and avenues of inquiry. The sunlit vista glittering around her as she sat in Pierce Lowell’s living room barely registered on her consciousness.

In one quick flash of enlightenment, she realized she’d been bored up until now, and that she was bored no longer. She had a challenge, a dreadful set of events which demanded her full attention and her every avenue of focus.

“Who did you contact?” Pierce asked again, reminding her of his unanswered question.

“Sorry. I was thinking.” She squared her shoulders. “I have an acquaintance. A friend really. Mrs. Felicia Armitage. She’s the widow of a former Metropolitan Police superintendent.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t scoff. Felicia has one of the best analytical brains I know and an enormous reservoir of criminal investigation techniques. Her husband was a forward-thinking gentleman who wasn’t afraid to discuss cases with Felicia. Together, they were very effective.” She glared at Pierce.

“Sorry. That wasn’t meant to be anything more than a simple
ah
.”

“Hmm.”

“Quite.”

“Anyway…” Minnie returned to her exposition. “Felicia has assisted the Met with some of their inquiries since she became a widow. Her insights are respected amongst the members of the force and they’ll talk to her on occasion, even seeking her out when they’re at a dead end.”

“That’s…unusual, to say the least.”

She smiled. “Felicia is an unusual woman. As you’ll see when she arrives. Now.” Minnie looked around. “I should return to my quarters in Yarmouth.”

Pierce held up his hand. “I have a better notion. You’re clearly involving yourself in this case…these killings. I can’t deny I’d be happy for the assistance. With today’s discovery, this has gone beyond coincidence and I don’t like the direction it’s taking. There is no one local who will take responsibility for an investigation into something on this scale—no Lord Lieutenant or anything like that. We have one chap in Yarmouth who functions as the entire constabulary for the area. Even in Cowes there aren’t more than two or three, and they can’t be spared from their duties there.”

“I understand.” She looked toward the coastline. “This is a quiet part of the island. Crimes of such a savage nature must be rare. Why waste valuable resources patrolling empty cliffs?”

“Exactly.”

“So you don’t mind my doing what some would call meddling?” She smiled.

“I would welcome your participation and never even
think
of it as meddling.” He grinned back. “I value my life. And you probably know a dozen ways to kill me should I offend you. Please notice I’m not underestimating your abilities.”

“Much appreciated.” Her smile grew to a chuckle. “I hate to disappoint you though. I only know of three ways to kill you. Four if you give me a silk shawl.” She stood. “And now I should leave.”

Pierce stood too. “Stay, Minnie.”

“What?”

“Stay here. In the Brass Pluggit. It only makes sense.”

“I…” She paused, confused by the invitation and not quite sure why.

“There are four empty guestrooms below us. My quarters are above. You’d be completely private, and there’s also room for your Mrs. Armitage. Her presence would cover the social aspects, I believe?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“And you’d be here, with my communications console at your disposal. Here on site, at the scene of the crimes, if you will. What better place to begin an investigation?”

Absently she tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t know, Pierce.”

He stepped nearer. “Minnie, I’d be lying if I said this was a purely academic request. You’re an intelligent and beautiful woman and I’m damned certain you know I have found you appealing on a variety of levels. Not all of them intellectual.”

She swallowed, lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “Same here.”

“Good.” He blinked, perhaps a little surprised at her blunt response. “Good. Very good then.”

“But I’m here to assist in the matter of these murders.”

“Of course.”

She licked her lips. “Not to explore the possibility of any sort of physical dalliance between us.”

“I understand completely.”

“That’s not to say I’d be averse to considering the possibility.”

“Welcome news.”

“But we should make sure we’re clear on this point.”

“Absolutely.” He was smiling at her now, his green eyes alight with humor.

“I’m making an idiot of myself, aren’t I?”

“Not at all.” The smile grew. “I think we understand each other perfectly.”

“That’s good then. We have it settled.”

He let his gaze wander slowly down her body. “Yes, it’s settled, Minnie. We’re going to work together. Closely.”

Her skin began to heat as his gaze passed over her like a caress.

“Very closely. So closely you’ll have a difficult time putting
anything
between us.”

Her nipples betrayed her by hardening beneath her blouse, and she felt dizzy. Then remembered to breathe.

“We’ll devote ourselves to this problem. Day and night.” He was very close now. So close she could swear she saw flames dancing behind his moss-bright eyes.

“Day and night?” Her throat was dry.

“Especially night. I think better in the darkness. When I can shed the formal trappings and feel the cool breeze on my skin. It seems to clear my mind.”

“Oh.” She rasped the word, her entire body fighting the urge to throw itself on Pierce and rip those formal trappings off him right then and there. Why didn’t he touch her?

“Perhaps you’ll join me in the darkness, Minnie. We could…
stimulate
each other’s thought processes.” His mouth was inches from hers, his breath whispered warmly on her lips and his scent swamped her senses.

Beyond speech, she simply nodded, her eyelids lowering, craving that kiss she knew had to be scant seconds away.

“Good. I’ll have Dusk prepare rooms.”

He spun on his heel and Minnie jerked as if a switch had been thrown, turning off a powerful spell around her. She bit back an oath, clenched her teeth together and then—the humor of the moment struck her and she began to laugh.

He’d certainly scored a slew of points with his outstandingly different technique. And she found herself looking forward to his next move. Not to mention some
stimulating
conversations.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so out of control around a man. It was intriguing, arousing and fun. Who would end up seducing whom? Well, time would tell. But she was ready to wager any sum at all that they’d end up sharing a bed before too long.

And
oh my goodness
. It would probably be an amazing experience.

Having agreed, finally, that Minnie would take up temporary residence at the Brass Pluggit, Pierce was content to sit back in the carriage and have Dusk take them to Yarmouth in the old-fashioned way. His whimsy was quite effective and had been a fun experiment. But he didn’t really want to expend the power necessary to transport three adults in it, not to mention whatever Minnie felt she needed to bring back with her.

Hence the rhythmic movement of the carriage as the horses responded to Dusk’s guidance and carried them all toward the small town. They would separate briefly, Minnie to her carriage on the boat, Pierce to visit Edward and ensure the body was properly attended to. Then he’d go down to the docks, collect her and her bags and they would both return to the Brass Pluggit.

At least, that was the plan. It had gone smoothly up to the point where Pierce had left Edward’s office, depressed that once again he’d had to approve a casket and leave something to help defray the cost. The parish funds weren’t as flush as some might believe and he could spare it, but it left him feeling saddened that another young life had been carelessly thrown away.

He found himself wondering if Minnie would understand his melancholy. Of course, being the scientist he was, one look at her carriage was enough to lure him inside, and instead of a quick trip to pick up her personal needs, it turned into two hours of prowling and investigating.

He was fascinated. “This is really clever, Minnie. Your designer got everything right.”

“He should have. We worked together—I told him exactly what I needed and he told me exactly what he could do. By the time we were done, I think both of us were pleased.”

“And you can run on wheels or latch on to any flatbed?”

“If it has the right set up, yes. You saw the appropriate fixtures on the deck when you came aboard, didn’t you?”

Pierce, absorbed in a rather clever piece of cabinetry, nodded.

“Well, I have the same sort of thing on a train car. The only thing I didn’t do was set up an airship for it. That seemed too…over the top?”

“Maybe.” He tugged on a small lever and smiled as a cabinet door swung open and shelves slid into prominence, filling the space revealed. “Dashed clever indeed.”

“It’s not self propelled, so your whimsy is probably higher on the achievement scale.” Minnie smiled placatingly.

“You’re patronizing me.” He lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Am I? Truly I didn’t mean to.” She blinked. “It may be a habit I’ve picked up over the years.”

“Speaking of patronizing…” Pierce strolled to the desk where she’d seated herself. “Are you going to file a report to Roger? Will he be chomping at the bit to hear from you?” He grinned. “That was metaphorical of course. I’d never be crass enough to imply that Roger looks a bit like a horse at times.”

Minnie sputtered. “You must be referring to your childhood friend. I can assure you that any equine similarities have long departed. Voters seldom elect ugly people. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I try not to notice that politics even exist. It’s a plague, a choking miasma that turns truth into lies and good men into self-aggrandizing idiots.”

“Gosh.” She chuckled. “Not planning on running for a seat, I take it?”

He made a sound not unlike a steam engine self-cleaning its exhaust system.

Minnie held up her hand. “I understand. No need to grunt further.” She opened her personal telegraph box. “But you’re right. I do have to send Roger a message.” She stroked the shining components gently as she fell silent.

“Well?” Pierce rested a hip on the gleaming wood and watched her.

“I’m not sure what to tell him.”

“Tell him your affair has ended.”

The words were harsh, plain and popped out of Pierce’s mouth before he could stop them. They indicated his deepest wishes, his desire that Minnie be unattached when they returned to his home. But why he’d spoken them aloud, he had absolutely no idea. It was extremely unlike him to reveal his thoughts like that and he found himself hideously embarrassed.

“I’m…um…so sorry. Good God.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t honestly say where that came from.”

Minnie looked down at her desk, but he could’ve sworn he saw her lips twitch. “I understand. I’ve had a moment or two of unexpectedly blunt speech myself.” She looked back up and this time he couldn’t mistake the humor in her expression. “I suppose it’s to be expected of people who hide their feelings most of the time.”

“Um, quite. Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, sorry again for the awkwardness.”

“Pierce?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve already ended my liaison with Roger Lutterson. It was over the moment he asked for a favor, quite some time ago now.”

“Oh.” Pierce’s collar suddenly seemed a little tighter than it had been a minute before.

She leaned back in her chair, resting her forearm on the shining surface of her desk, the lace from her sleeve puddling softly, a pale ripple on the highly polished wood. He watched, fascinated by the interplay of visual texture—the white skin of her arm, the pale ivory of the lace and the deep chestnut of the wood. His mind made a quick mental painting. It would have looked sensational framed and mounted above his fireplace at the Brass Pluggit.

But she was speaking and the brief moment passed.

“Since you’ve raised the topic I’ll be as blunt with you as you’ve been with me. Roger was a pleasant diversion, but one that probably went on longer than it should have. I…associate on a personal level with men who I find interesting. Who have something more to offer than their…um…physical skills. I like to think of myself as selective and discriminating, although some might refer to it as being damned picky. I can’t say I find that insulting.” She smiled. “Am I, as others infer, scandalous? No. I don’t believe so. You’ll never find a married man in my bed. Nor a young man, nor a woman.”

Pierce swallowed and wondered if his collar was going to strangle him right then and there.

“Most of the time, you won’t find anyone there at all, in spite of what you may have heard or read about me. A large portion of the publicity is just that. Publicity. If people know of me, they’re more likely to contribute to any charity I might currently be representing. And if I can use my name to do some good, so be it. People are fascinated by the sex lives of others. Why? I have no idea, but I’ll use what I can to achieve my goals.”