Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit (8 page)

“Exactly.” He stretched his spine. “Now you see why I asked for your word about the secrecy of this project.”

“I do, and to reiterate, you have it. Should anyone with military associations learn of this, they’d want one for every port, every vessel, every aerodrome…” She paused for a second or two. “Does this work above ground? For airships maybe?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” He rubbed his eyebrow absently as he thought. “I’ve had no chance to experiment in that area. The equipment itself is large and extensive, so obviously this device wouldn’t be practical, but it could be downsized, I suppose, if the range were reduced…”

“Never mind. Just an idle question.” Minnie turned back to the green images. “So why did you turn it on? What are you looking for?”

He scooted the stool close to her and leaned over, twisting a dial and moving the focus to the offshore area. “I wanted to check something.”

They were close enough he could hear her clothing rustle as she nodded.

“Our poor victim washed up here.” He pointed to a spot very near to the inlet where the Brass Pluggit was located. “So, given the prevailing currents, I’m guessing she was put into the water somewhere around here. The weather’s been calm, no storms to shift things around, so odds are pretty good this is the way she drifted.”

He pointed to an area about a quarter of a mile away from the coast. Yes, she could have been dropped a long way away and still ended up at the bottom of their cliffs, but—not to put too fine a point on it—she would have been in much worse shape. Not that he’d go into that topic with Minnie, but he had a sneaking suspicion she’d come to that realization herself.

“So you’re checking to see which ships are in the area?”

He nodded. “Yes. And I’m correlating that information with the records I pulled up from the first three incidents. I never thought to look for ships back then, but now I do. I have my observations from the victim prior to this one. It might be a place to start.”

“I’m impressed.” She threw him a quick glance then returned her attention to the screen. “It’s a really wonderful idea. Wait…what’s this?” She pointed to a small indentation in the otherwise fairly regular dips of the coastline. “That doesn’t look natural to me…”

He dipped his head for a closer look. “You’re right. It’s not. That’s the beginnings of the new Godolphin airfield. They’ve cut away some cliffs and opened up a small chine so that they can ship in their supplies rather than trek them overland, then over Southampton Water, then overland again. Makes sense economically and I hear it’s also quite efficient time-wise.”

“And how far is it from here? I can’t gauge distances very well on this…”

“It’s about a mile away from the other side of Stanley Fotheringay’s manor. Sometimes we can hear an explosion as they excavate—Stanley waxes eloquent about the nuisance factor—but recently it’s been pretty quiet. I suppose they’ve reached the construction phase. More building than blowing up.”

“So their shipping would be shown on your…what do you call it?”

“Haven’t named it yet. Green light works for me at the moment. And yes, my green light shows the Godolphin ships as well as any others.”

“How do you know which ship is which?”

“You can’t distinguish them from this.” He waved at the screen. “But if you have
this
…” With a magician’s flair he produced a sheaf of papers. “The maritime records of incoming and outgoing vessels.”

“Aha.” She chuckled. “The key to your green light.”

“Indeed.”

Minnie stifled a yawn. “Have you correlated anything interesting yet?”

He stood, pushing the stool back under the far end of the desk and putting the papers down, automatically resting a large brass octopus on top of them as a paperweight. “Not yet. I thought perhaps we could try doing that together.
Tomorrow
.”

He placed a strong emphasis on the last word. “It’s very late. We’re both tired, we’re both edgy because of that kiss earlier…” He allowed himself the luxury of reaching out and touching her arm as she stood. “I’m not thinking as clearly as I should. I want you, Minnie, and you know it. I think you want me too. But now is not the time and we both know that as well. So please, go to bed. I don’t have much energy left in me at the moment. I might do something we’ll both regret if you don’t.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, then she turned away. “Good night.”

And she was gone.

Amazingly enough, she did actually manage to sleep, waking only as the sun crept through the window and an annoying bird decided to function as an alarm, chirping a repetitively dull song until Minnie was ready to take his beak and stick it somewhere he wouldn’t like, thus rendering him mute.

Refreshed in spite of her late night, she took a few moments to explore her quarters in the daylight, enjoying the cleverly built-in cabinetry and how it utilized the curves of the room rather than avoiding them. The front might look quite ordinary—dark polished wood doors with the requisite handles—but when opened, both drawers and cupboards were slightly curved. It was well designed and very functional.

Her clothes, such as they were, had been hung up in the wardrobe. She was well used to taking care of herself and could rinse out her small delicacies when necessary.

It appeared that she would be able to do just that. Opening a door in the wall, she gasped in delight. A completely and thoroughly equipped bath chamber greeted her astonished gaze.

Glass and wood had been used most effectively, along with delicate blue porcelain, echoing the colors of the sea on a summer day. The tub looked like a garden pool, since several plants had been strategically placed on a high windowsill and allowed to trail their fronds over the soft white wall. There was even one of the newest features—a shower attachment. Just now reaching public acceptance, this new device allowed the bather to stand and be doused by water rather than sit in it and scrub.

Minnie had had one installed in her London apartments as soon as she’d heard about it. She loved it and hoped Pierce’s was as efficient.

The vanity and commode were also blue, the tank above was wood and there was a little ocean scene painted lovingly on the china handle of the chain. Even flushing had become an artistic experience, it seemed.

She grinned. What would they think of next?

There were towels aplenty—Pierce was a thoughtful host indeed—and Minnie emerged from her rooms an hour or so later, much refreshed and ready to face the day. The scent of food drew her to the large circular room above.

“Good morning, Miss Minnie. Tea?”

“Oh yes please, Dusk.”

He picked up the teapot and ushered her to a small table by the window. “Dr. Lowell will be with you shortly. There’s toast, eggs, whatever you’d like. Please help yourself.” He poured her tea.

“Lovely.” Minnie’s mouth watered.

“There’s a copy of the paper if you’re interested. Sadly, it’s yesterday’s. Dr. Lowell hasn’t worked out a way to get today’s paper here yet.” Dusk smiled.

Minnie chuckled back. “Give him time.”

“Indeed.”

“Good morning, Minnie.” The man himself strode in, holding papers in his hand. “Your Mrs. Armitage will be here on the noon ferry.” He waved a page. “And I apologize, but I have yet to manage any kind of privacy for telegraph messages. If the recipient isn’t sitting right there when it comes in…”

Minnie waved away his apologies, reaching for the page. “I understand. I’m just glad to know she’s on the way. I wasn’t sure she could come so quickly, but it seems she was quite eager.”

“The carriage will be ready at half-past eleven, Doctor.” Dusk had paused by the door. “Will that be acceptable?”

Pierce nodded. “I think that should do it. There’s always some delay in the ferry, so that’ll give us time to do what’s necessary.”

Dusk left as Minnie buttered a piece of toast.

Pierce took another chair at the table, set his papers down and poured himself tea. It was quiet, neither feeling the need to speak at that moment. It was all quite domestic, really.

She found herself unusually comfortable with him. Speaking or not speaking—it didn’t matter. There was no need to fill the quiet with mundane words or empty chatter. The awareness was there, without a doubt. She knew if she looked at him and met his gaze, there would be more than just the social intercourse between them. More than a simple glance from a man to a woman.

There would be banked fire, sparks and—danger. Of the very best kind.

She sighed and finished her toast. First things first. “Do you have a map handy?”

“Pardon?” He looked up over the paper he’d been idly perusing.

“A map. Of this part of the Isle of Wight. I need to get a better feel for our location…if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He stood and walked over to a small desk where he rummaged in a drawer and eventually produced a rather crumpled map. “I have a larger one in the laboratory, but it’s pinned to a sheet of wood. Not very portable, I’m afraid.”

Minnie brushed that aside. “This is perfect. Thank you.” She spread the document out, moving the dishes out of the way.

“Looking for anything in particular?” He reached for a plate and grabbed a rasher of bacon, munching it with obvious enjoyment.

“Not really.” She pored over it. “I need to know where we are, how the rest of the coast looks and where that ship was last night. I think I’ll be able to get a better idea from this old-fashioned map. Your green light thingy isn’t the easiest to read.”

He chuckled. “I agree.” He leaned over her shoulder and she could have sworn she heard him sniff her hair. “We’re here.” His finger descended on an inlet and tapped. “Here’s the Pluggit, and the two small cliffs either side.”

She cleared her throat. “Whoever built this had a rather warped sense of humor, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” He grinned, but let it go. “Here’s where Stanley Fotheringay lives. No beach front or access at all. He likes the view but not the water, so he seems very content living on top of the cliffs.”

Pierce’s finger was resting on a point not that far away from the Pluggit, and Minnie could see from the topographical lines that Fotheringay’s manor lay in a small dip. It was probably protected reasonably well unless the winds were coming in from the south-west.

“And the site of the new aerodrome?”

“That would be here.” The long finger tapped farther down the coast. There was a slight indentation in the coastline. “This map is now out of date, of course, since Godolphin has widened the chine, as I think I mentioned. You can sail inland for several hundred yards.”

“They have a dock there, I suppose?”

“I couldn’t say. It’s been a while since I took a look.”

Minnie leaned back in her chair and studied the map again. “I’m getting a feeling that we should take a new look at the Godolphin facility.”

“Any particular reason?”

“No. Just a vaguely unsettled sort of itch.”

“That would be somewhere around the area of your feminine intuition?”

She threw him a suspicious glance. “Would you be making fun of feminine intuition?”

“Good Lord. Me? No. Absolutely not. Firmly believe in it. Yes, ma’am. Firmly.” He nodded. “Never let it be said I had any doubts about the validity of such a thing.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Of course, if there’s anything
else
itching that you’d like some help with…”

“Oh be quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Five

Felicia Armitage walked carefully down the gangplank on the arm of a sturdy young sailor and heaved a sigh of relief when the ground ceased to move beneath her feet. “Thank you, lad.”

“
Moi
pleasure, ma’am.” His voice was pleasant to her ears, with just a hint of that soft southern England accent she’d come to recognize. “Be there anyone here to meet you?”

“Yes, there will be. I’ll be just fine. And thank you again.”

The noises around her would have been an unintelligible cacophony to some, but to her they were clearly distinct. The slap of the water against the hull of the ferry. The cries of the gulls as they wheeled and screamed above the masts.

Then there were the polite and occasionally anxious conversations taking place amongst the passengers with whom she’d sailed from Southampton. The elderly gentleman returning to Yarmouth after paying a visit to his granddaughter. The young couple on their honeymoon. The family excited at the thought of their very first holiday with their toddler. The two women who had spent a happy week in Southampton seeing the sights and hoped to make it to London at some point in their lives.

All normal people, all with their own lives and their own stories, and all interesting to Felicia Armitage in one way or another.

She was an unabashed student of human nature and always would be. The way people spoke, acted, moved and thought—well, it was a source of fascination she’d carry with her until her dying day.

She had ample opportunity to pursue her interests, especially on a small enclosed space such as the Southampton to Yarmouth ferry. And most often, her interests would come to her. Most people tended to be friendly to the woman sitting quietly by herself. A woman no longer in the first flush of youth, modestly dressed and yet clearly a lady.

And a woman who was almost blind.

Her white cane was not really a necessity but few realized she could still make out shapes and colors. In her home she needed no help at all, since familiarity—and the little vision she actually had—served her just fine.

But here, on unfamiliar and uneven ground, it helped to let passersby know her sight was limited. That way they usually either gave her a wide berth or offered their assistance. On the rare occasions when they’d had something less pleasant in mind, like snatching her reticule for example, they discovered her cane hid a secret. A very sharp blade, which flashed out from the handle at the touch of a button.

And Felicia wasn’t shy about touching that button.

Fortunately it wouldn’t be needed today, since she could already make out Minnie coming toward her. Only Minnie would wear such a brilliant shade of yellow, knowing Felicia would spot it and recognize the wearer.

“Hallo…Felicia…halloooo…”

Taking a step toward the voice, she lifted her cane to wave. It caught in a net lying tumbled on the side of the quay and Felicia lost her balance.

Before she could cry out or gasp or do much of anything except stumble, a pair of strong arms picked her completely up off the ground and cradled her safely, even managing to untangle her cane.

“Oh my.” Now she had her breath back, she turned, trying to make out who had rescued her in such a bold and—one might say—romantic way.

“Are you well, Mrs. Armitage? Not hurt anywhere?”

“No…no, I’m fine. I think.” She could make out a face, white hair flying around it in a cloud. The face seemed different and without thinking, she reached out to touch it. It was her way with friends, but not something she was prone to do with strangers lest they misinterpret her gesture. It simply helped her sense emotions and expressions.

Her fingers roamed over the contours then stilled—half this face was covered with something…a metal mask resembling a face. There was warmth there, and as her fingers moved down to touch the mouth, his lips curved into what she imagined would be a wonderful smile.

“Thank you, sir.” She spoke softly. “You have saved an old woman from certain injury.”

She felt his shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “I have? And here I thought I’d saved
you
.”

Felicia tumbled off balance again, but this time her feet weren’t involved. Too used to admitting she was no longer a young woman, it had been quite some time since any man had expressed anything other than a polite interest in her. Certainly none had flirted. And when they might have been so inclined, she was a married woman.

But now, here she was, amidst the bustle of the Yarmouth quay, being held quite comfortably in the strong arms of a man with a mask over half his face. Who was, without question, talking to her on a distinctly teasing level. And also showing no inclination whatsoever to put her down.

“You can say something, if you wish.” His voice came again, and this time there was no doubt about it. It was low, caressing and very appealing to places that Felicia had thought long dead. She had a hard time not squirming.

“I…um…thank you?”

“You are most welcome.” He moved, carrying her as if she was a feather. “I’ll take you to Miss Minnie.”

“I can walk, you know.”

“I know. I like carrying you.”

“Ah.” What else could one say? To protest would be ungrateful and immature. With that sop to her conscience, Felicia simply relaxed into his arms and let herself enjoy the sensation.

“My dear Felicia, are you all right?” Minnie’s voice broke the spell.

“Of course. Thanks to this kind gentleman.”

Felicia finally felt the ground beneath her feet once more, even though that strong arm was still around her waist. A bit flustered, she patted his hand.

“This is Dusk, Felicia. Dr. Pierce Lowell’s right-hand man. We’re staying with Pierce at the Brass Pluggit.”

“Really.” Felicia blinked behind her owlish green-tinged glasses. “The Brass Pluggit, eh?”

“I know. But you’ll understand when we get there. We’ve brought the carriage. Do you have baggage with you?”

In her usual efficient fashion, Minnie had Felicia introduced to both Dr. Lowell and Dusk—he of the strong arms—and stowed safely in the carriage with her valise in no time at all. As they pulled away and left the hustle and bustle behind, Felicia sighed at the warmth of the sun and the pleasing fragrance of the English countryside in summer.

“This is so nice. Thank you for inviting me.” She reached out a hand and found Minnie’s.

“I’m glad you came. And that this could be a little vacation for you.” Minnie’s voice was hesitant. “But as you know, there’s more to it than a few days at the seaside.”

“Ah yes. You have a rather unpleasant mystery on your hands, don’t you?”

“That, my dear,” said Minnie, “is an understatement.”

With the arrival of Mrs. Armitage, the Brass Pluggit took on an air of unusual activity. It seemed to Pierce as if the place bustled, now and again.

Used to the more tranquil atmosphere engendered by just himself and Dusk, it was distracting to have Minnie trotting up and down stairs or to hear Felicia’s voice calling across the large living room.

And Dusk? Well he was providing endless amusement.

Apparently the man had gone and tumbled head over heels for Felicia. She could barely stir without him appearing at her side to offer assistance. He seemed to pride himself on anticipating her needs, rearranging furniture so that she could move from one place to another without risk of injury, and generally hovering around her like a lovesick puppy.

“Going to cut up her food for her at dinner then?” Pierce threw out the cheeky question as he passed Dusk heading for the greenhouse.

“Do you think I should?”

“Good God, man.” Pierce roared with laughter. “No.”

Dusk sighed. “She’s special, isn’t she?”

Stifling his chuckles, Pierce slapped Dusk on the shoulder. “She certainly is. I think you should just be your usual charming self to her. Let nature take its course.”

The two men ended up just inside the greenhouse and Dusk turned to Pierce. “That would be what you’re doing, is it?”

Pierce shifted uncomfortably. “Well. Ah…I…we…”

“I thought as much.” Dusk snickered and strolled off down a path between his plants. “Fresh green beans with dinner. They’re ripe for picking.”

Pierce grimaced. “Aren’t we all.”

In spite of his eagerness to attack the problem of the murders, he found himself amazed at how quickly time flew by. Minnie was exploring the Brass Pluggit herself even as she carefully guided Felicia around the odd edifice, and he was called upon to explain some of the more obscure features and demonstrate the functioning of the moving platform.

Felicia loved that piece of machinery, and he took his time making sure she knew how to operate it.

“The lights help. I can make those out quite clearly.” She’d smiled at him in unaffected delight at that moment as she slowly rose above him, and Pierce understood what Dusk had seen.

Felicia was petite, almost fragile in appearance. Her hair was that pale white blonde that would turn grey without anyone really noticing, and her skin the pure cream so beloved by English poets.

Her eyes? They were blue of course. But a misty blue that drifted from the color of the sky to the color of the sea depending on her mood. Perhaps it was her vision difficulties—caused, she said, by an injury during her youth—but whatever the cause, her eyes were striking. Perhaps that was why she tended to hide them behind a pair of greenish-tinged glasses.

She was bright, witty and a perfect foil for Minnie’s hotheaded explosion into the everyday life of the Brass Pluggit. Between the two of them, the women had opened doors and windows, both physically and metaphorically.

And Dusk was definitely smitten.

He himself, well…yes, he lusted for Minnie. Smitten was far too gentle a word for what he felt. And yet he managed to keep it all under control for a few days as his new guests settled in, and along with their perfumes and their chatter came information from sources in London and elsewhere.

It was the third day after Felicia’s arrival and they’d already fallen into a daily routine that seemed to work for them all.

Pierce rose first, early as was his custom. Minnie wouldn’t be far behind, and together they’d meet as the sun rose, most often saying little, just sharing a unique moment together. That he could find himself looking forward to this tiny ritual spoke volumes to Pierce.

And several chapters in those volumes troubled him. He was going in deep, connecting with Minnie on a level he’d not anticipated. And he hadn’t even taken her to bed yet. She was seducing him, not with her breasts or her sex, but with her mind and her humor. She had unlocked a door inside him and walked right past his fortifications to make herself comfortable within his soul.

It was rather frightening in many ways, incredibly wonderful in others. And those few quiet minutes standing by her side, watching the miracle of dawn…there were no words to capture the feeling.

Once the sun was up, Dusk usually arrived with the first pot of tea. That was Pierce’s signal to check his communications console while Minnie set out the cups.

Within half an hour Dusk would have food on the table and Felicia would arrive. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to have Dusk remain for breakfast—he was, after all, so much more than any servant. Up until now, he and Pierce had enjoyed their friendship and the distance they could maintain, in the unique way of men.

The women changed all that. From master and servant, the dynamics had shifted just enough to include Dusk in everything, and Pierce was quite happy about it. He’d often thought it was past time Dusk got out of his dramatic mode and rejoined the world. The fact that he himself was doing the same sort of thing…well, that pretty much went unnoticed.

So by the third morning, their activities were predictable and they were quite comfortable sitting around the table discussing the day’s plans.

“Before we go too far into arranging our day, there’s some news here.” Pierce tapped the papers next to him. “Our questions are starting to pay off in information.” He passed one sheet to Minnie. “This one, for example. From your reporter contact.”

“Oh good.” Minnie put down her cup and took the paper, reading the contents carefully. She looked troubled. “Oh. Not so good.”

“What?” Felicia looked across the table, her face shaded as a passing cloud covered the sun.

“There have been three other cases similar to ours. All on the coastline, all involving young women who were strangled.” She cleared her throat. “Authorities were able to ascertain that they…er…suffered indignities on their persons.”

“Ah.” Felicia nodded. “Raped, poor things.”

“Sounds like it, yes.” Minnie shivered. “There’s more here. Arthur says that although investigations were conducted, nobody was able to solve the crimes and when the bodies stopped appearing, they stopped looking for the perpetrator.” She pursed her lips. “The first occurred two years ago in Pembrokeshire. On the coast of Wales.”

“Interesting.” Pierce thought about it.

“Really? I haven’t spent much time in Wales, so I don’t know the area.” Minnie glanced at him and took a bite of her toast.