Miss Minnie and the Brass Pluggit (9 page)

“Never mind. Just a passing thought. Go on.”

She chewed hurriedly, gulped down the food and followed it with tea. “Right. Three months later another two bodies showed up. This time just outside Ilfracombe.”

“Devon, right?” asked Felicia.

“Yes.”

“Pretty country down there. Mr. Armitage took me there years ago.”

Dusk touched her arm and poured more tea into her cup.

“So that was the second incident, and we’re still talking a year and a half or so ago. It may be just a coincidence.” Minnie looked around the table.

Pierce didn’t need to do the same to know they were all thinking a similar thought. He said it for all of them. “Unlikely.”

Minnie sighed. “I know. Anyway, the last case was six months ago. Aha.”

“Aha what?” He leaned forward.

“Two bodies, Lyme Regis.” She looked at him. “The crimes—or the killer—are moving closer. I can’t say it’s a pattern but it could be.”

“All coastal.” Pierce turned this information over in his mind.

“Easy to dispose of the bodies,” offered Felicia.

“Yes. And an easy getaway too.” Pierce stared over the ocean. “Just hoist a sail, start an engine or whatever and sail off, without leaving a single trace.”

“Except the body of the woman you’ve strangled.” Minnie’s voice was hard.

“Yes. Except that.”

“Did your contact have anything else, Miss Minnie?” Dusk broke the silence that followed Pierce’s comment.

“No. That was it. He ended with a request for anything of interest I might uncover. Which he always does. And if I do, he’ll get it.” She blinked. “If you know what I’m saying. That didn’t really sound right.”

“Never mind, dear. We all understood.” Felicia patted her hand reassuringly. “And now we know these aren’t isolated instances. I think we can safely say we have similar sets of killings.” She paused. “Perhaps it’s time to look at our victims.”

Pierce leaned back. “You know, it occurs to me that I should be seriously afraid right now. I appear to have two of the sharpest women in England sharing my breakfast.”

“You’ll cope, dear.” Felicia patted his hand too.

Minnie chuckled. “Enjoy it, Pierce. Relish it. Doesn’t happen too often.” She turned to Felicia. “Yes. The victims. All women, obviously. And no hue and cry raised at their disappearance. So we’ve already taken a guess that they’re prostitutes. I’d be prepared to bet on that.”

Pierce nodded. “I can’t see that many women having accidental falls from cliffs and strangling themselves on the way down to the rocks beneath.” He sat up. “Besides…why didn’t I realize it?” He slapped himself on the head. “They were strangled.
Not
battered.”

Minnie jumped. “Of course. They
had
to come from a ship. If they’d fallen off a cliff they’d be badly bruised. Bones smashed. Whatever.”

Dusk looked at the remains of his breakfast and pushed the plate aside. “Yes. The physical damage would have been much worse.”

“There are other possibilities.” Felicia tapped her fingers idly on the table as she spoke. “The bodies could have been taken out to sea and dumped, I suppose.”

“You’d need a good-sized vessel to get far enough out to catch the current that brought our last victim to our doorstep.” Dusk considered the matter. “If the ship was smaller or had been nearer land, it would have drifted more west.”

“Hmm.” Pierce thought about that. “I can’t say yes or no, because I’m not a fisherman, but I tend to agree.”

“All right.” Minnie squared her shoulders. “So thus far we have young women, who we assume are prostitutes, ending up on a boat offshore and being strangled, then disposed of over the side. Right?”

Three nods answered her statement.

“Very well. So who’s hiring these women? And how many? And from where?”

“Not locals.” Dusk spoke first. “They’d be missed.”

“And a couple of our victims were seen on the Cowes ferry. So Southampton,” Pierce contributed.

“More likely London.” Felicia wrinkled her nose. “He’s ordering them from London brothels, if you will. Like desserts a la carte. Too many women up there, nobody missing them. If the money’s right, you can buy whatever you want and no one will ask why you want it.”

“Takes money to arrange for travel.” Dusk looked at Felicia. “And money to reserve just the girls you want. White, young…willing to go that far. He must be offering some pretty sizeable sums of cash.”

Dusk’s comments were followed by more silence as everyone digested his words along with their breakfast.

Felicia moved first. “Have any of you heard of the Slave Triangle business?”

Pierce felt an odd shiver as she spoke the words. Clouds were building and one drifted across the sun, sending the room into shadow—almost as if in response to Felicia’s voice.

“No.” Minnie tilted her head to one side. “What is it?”

By mutual consent, they’d decided to move their conversation outside the Brass Pluggit. The weather looked as if it might take a downturn later, so they settled on chairs in the tiny garden nestled against the greenhouses.

There were shrubs, a few flowers and a nicely green patch of grass, complete with the requisite chairs and a table. The shade came from a large parasol erected by Dusk. Trees didn’t do so well, being much too close to the savage onshore winds.

But it was a charming little spot, nothing grandiose, just pleasant. The ocean provided its own musical accompaniment and the scudding clouds added visual interest to the light. Minnie loved it and willingly took a place next to Pierce, ready to continue their conversation.

Dusk was making sure Felicia had her wrap and a hat—of all of them, she was most likely to feel the damage that too much sun could do to the skin.

So Minnie had Pierce to herself for a moment or two. “Thank you for having us here.” She glanced at him. He’d left his jacket upstairs…in fact, they’d all agreed to put aside the social conventions.

He looked good. His hair blew in the breeze, his eyes were clear and brilliant in the changing light and Minnie wanted nothing more at that moment than to slide into his arms and curl up there. It was a horribly weak and feminine thing to want, she knew. It wasn’t the sort of thing she’d ever imagined herself wishing for. But she did.

There it was.

“Look at me like that much longer and I’ll have you naked on your back in ten seconds flat.” His voice was low and sensual, the promise backed up by the heat flaring in his eyes.

“
Really
?” She licked her lips. “I mean…I wasn’t…I didn’t…”

“Yes you are, yes you do and so do I.” His response was obscure and made little sense, but Minnie completely understood it. Which was frightening when she thought about it.

He put his hand on top of hers, his skin warm, his fingers gentle as they wrapped themselves around her hand. “Come to me tonight, Minnie. Please. It’s time. I don’t think I can wait much longer. Not if I’ve got to stay on top of these murders.” He turned their hands and interlinked their fingers. “You’re a distraction I’m not sure if I can afford. Perhaps if we do this, we can get it out of our systems and move on with the business at hand.”

She looked down, seeing his tanned skin blending so perfectly with her own paler tones. “Perhaps.”

He hissed out a breath. “Perhaps what? Perhaps yes you’ll come to me tonight? Perhaps we’ll get it out of our system? Sweet Jesus, woman…” His grip went from gentle to possessive. “You have no idea how insane you’re making me.”

She couldn’t help chuckling. “Relax, Pierce. You’ll hurt yourself. And that will never do because I’m going to need you in one piece tonight.” She squeezed his hand. “I could rephrase that a little.” She leaned closer. “I’m definitely going to need one piece of you tonight.”

He made a sort of strangled sound, something resembling the triumphant squawk of a seagull trying to swallow a fish three times its size.

Thankfully, Dusk and Felicia arrived at that moment, and Minnie managed to stifle any more inappropriate comments. Although it wasn’t easy, since Pierce had hurriedly reached for the sheaf of papers and tossed it onto his lap.

Where it was threatening to slide off as the fit of his trousers was seriously distended.

A dart of pleasure arrowed through Minnie’s body and landed between her thighs. Oh yes. Tonight. She was ready too.

“The Slave Triangle,” Felicia began. “It happened a long time ago. Early this century, I believe—probably a long time before that as well.” She folded her hands on her lap.

“It’s a not completely unexpected story, but it’s quite a clever one. Back then, trade was much less regulated. Countries wanted to build their exports and only import things they needed, and often the two goals didn’t match up. Setting up a trading triangle corrected these inequities.”

Pierce’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Well,” continued Felicia. “Let’s say you had lots of sugar to export. Some other country, a Caribbean island perhaps, needed the sugar to make rum. But you were a teetotaler and didn’t want to import rum, which you couldn’t sell. What would happen? The rum would be exported to a country that
did
need it. That country, perhaps an African nation—as was the case all too often—would pay for the rum by sending
you
slaves. You needed slaves to continue harvesting the sugar and could sell them at a really nice profit. And thus the trade triangle was created.” She paused. “Do you see how it works?”

Pierce nodded. “Clever.”

Dusk agreed. “Somebody really put some time into working that one out.”

“It’s also very profitable.” Felicia’s lip curled a bit. “And ongoing. Make no mistake. We may, as a nation, decry the practice of slavery, and of course it’s been illegal since the Abolition Act was passed in the thirties. But at this very moment some vessels with prominent names attached to them are currently on their way to Africa with crates of cargoes. Probably cotton fabric or something. All perfectly legitimate and purchased from a solid British manufacturer who was quite pleased with his profits.”

Minnie frowned. “That doesn’t sound unusual. Is it?”

“Oh yes.” Felicia looked at her, blue eyes dark now as she told the story. “Those goods, very much needed by those African countries, will be welcomed with open arms and the proceeds will stimulate the economy. Shortly after they arrive, a few more ships will sail from Africa to the Americas. Most likely to ports in the south.
Their
cargo is a human one, purchased with the proceeds from the sale of those British-made goods. Slaves for the cotton fields will be sold at a profit in America. The cotton will be harvested and shipped back to Liverpool or wherever, and sold once more at a profit to the mills themselves. And the cycle continues.”

“But at no time does anyone here soil their hands with slavery.” Pierce whistled through his teeth. “Damned clever.”

“You’d be surprised if you knew some of the names who are reaping the profits.” Felicia’s mouth turned down. “It’s really a tragedy.”

“Thankfully, Dalrymple doesn’t travel those routes.” Minnie nibbled on her lower lip as she mentally reviewed her shipping interests. “And our cargoes…well, let’s just say we have a reputation for being honorable. We obey the laws of England. And if I ever learn that
any
of my ships have trafficked in human cargo…”

Pierce leaned over and once again clasped her hand. “Easy. You don’t have to even try to clarify that, Minnie.”

She swallowed down a lump of fury. “Thank you. I know you all understand. It just makes me very angry when something as vital as trade is corrupted and abused. And people profit from it.”

Felicia shrugged. “You may not want to hear this, Minnie, but I’ve heard Sir Roger Lutterson’s name mentioned in connection with something like this.”

Minnie’s head jerked up. “Good Lord. Is
that
where he gets his money? I did wonder. That family’s been in and out of bankruptcy for several generations.”

“I ran across a remote connection some time ago when I was looking into another company’s affiliation with some…inappropriate trades. Lutterson’s name was there, but not as anyone controlling the scheme. He may be making some money from it as an investor, but he’s not masterminding it.”

“Too busy buying himself a seat in the Commons with it.” Pierce sounded ironic.

“I’m so glad I moved on.” Minnie shuddered. “He’s a reasonably intelligent chap when he’s not being a politician. And quite good company. But definitely someone I’m happy to say is in my past.”

Dusk, who had listened quietly to the conversation, now offered a comment. “This is a fascinating story, Mrs. Armitage. But I’m not sure I see how it relates to our murdered young women.”

Minnie noticed the warmth that flickered over Felicia’s face as she turned to Dusk. Something was certainly afoot there. She was rather glad. Her friend deserved some fun. She pushed the thought aside for the moment and concentrated on Felicia’s words.

“I find myself wondering about these girls. We know that some bodies have washed up. But what if they were the
minority
? For some reason, one or two or three girls were disposed of over the side of a ship. What about the rest? Where did they go?”