The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Menace (8 page)

“
Did you know Nelly Tate, the actress? Did she come here at
all, to get her leg seen to?”

“
Nerly,” Lovecraft growled, but she couldn’t be certain if he
was repeating her, or answering her question. He circled her
warily, then disappeared down the ladder.

Perry
hesitated. Returning to the dark made her feel somewhat less safe,
but she didn’t gain the feeling that man-child would hurt her, so
she followed.

The behemoth
limped across the floor, then lifted the mattress in the corner,
and slid out a thin lacquered box. “Nerly,” he said again, lifting
the lid to show her.

There were photographs inside it; a seated man and a woman
who stared unsmiling at the camera, with her hand resting on his
shoulder. Scrawled across it were the words:
‘To James, With Love, Nelly
.’ There
were also a whole string of playbills advertizing her in various
theatre productions going back almost six years.

More
photographs revealed the young actress, both at another theatre and
smiling shyly in a park. One of them featured a young boy in short
strings, with his hand clasped through a much-younger Nelly’s, and
a frozen look on his deformed face as he stared at the
photographer.

Lovecraft.
Perry looked up over the
edge of the photographs, and put them gently back into the box.
“Nelly and James were friends, weren’t they? They’ve known each
other a long time.” Since Nelly was a young girl, judging by that
last photograph.

He made a
muffled sound, fingering the last photograph with a child-like
wistfulness.

“
Perhaps it would be best if you come with me,” Perry
suggested, setting a hand on his sleeve. From the smell of him,
he’d been sleeping in alleys the last few nights. “I’ll take you to
the Guild. We can get you something to eat and drink, and perhaps a
bath? Would you like that? Would you–”

He yanked his
arm out from under her grip. “Nuh. Nuh. Stay ‘ere. Nerly.” Fisting
the enormous clockwork fingers, he curled them up by his face.

“
Nelly’s not going to come here again,” Perry whispered. “Nor
Hobbs. Do you understand that? Hobbs has... gone to sleep. Forever.
You put the coins on his eyes, didn’t you?”

That set him
off. He pounded his fists against the brass muffs that covered his
ears. Then again.

Perry tried to
grab his hand. “Please don’t, Lovecraft. You’ll hurt yourself.” She
swallowed. “Come back to the Guild with me. Maybe you can help me
find Nelly? If you answer my questions, I might be able to trace
where she’s gone. Maybe she’s not sleeping, like Hobbs? Maybe you
can help me save her?”

The big brute
bared his teeth at her. “Nuh!” Agony twisted his ugly features. For
a moment, Perry almost reached out again, at the look in those
childlike blue eyes, but he shoved past.

Lashing out at
her, he drove her back into the wall, and thundered toward the
ladder. Perry caught her breath, then started after him, but he
jerked the ladder up through the trapdoor and slammed it shut. The
lock clicked home and footsteps hammered dust down between the
floorboards. Then a door slammed.

Gone
. He was gone.

Damn it. Perry
glared up at the trapdoor. It was going to give her a devilish
time, trying to get it open. And what in blazes did any of that
interaction mean?

At least she
now knew that Nelly had been a frequent part of Hobbs’ life. Nelly
must have visited often enough for Lovecraft to have formed some
sort of affection for her, which meant the link was there. Hobbs’
murder was directly involved with Nelly’s disappearance.

She just had
to find out how.

As soon as she
got that damned trapdoor open.

The theatre
was a hive of activity.

Last minute
costume changes had to be seen to for Miss Radcliffe, who was
slightly taller than Nelly Tate had been, someone was screaming
about greasepaint in the wings and demanding to know where the wig
for Concetta was, and the lights were all blaring as the stagehands
tested them.

Garrett used
the cacophony to move about relatively unseen in the background.
Nelly’s dressing room was the last in the row, and somewhat
isolated. He spent an hour examining the walls and mirrors in the
room, trying to locate any hidden passages backstage. One door led
to a storeroom filled with garish backdrops, but there was no sign
of any other mysterious way in or out of that area.

Someone had to
have seen her leave. Unless she’d not been missed in the chaos?

But if there
was blood in her room, then she should have been injured. Surely
someone would have noticed if Nelly had staggered out of her room,
or even been helped out by someone else.

Garrett found
a small, out-of-the-way alcove from which to watch the stage, while
he waited for Perry. It wasn’t long before a dark-figured blur
stepped past the stage directly into the wings where he stood.

“
Lord Rommell.” Garrett tipped his head to the man.

Rommell looked
less than pleased to see him, though he responded with a curt nod,
and settled in beside Garrett. “How is the case progressing? Is
there any sign of Nelly?”

While he’d
questioned Rommell the day before, the man’s sudden involvement in
the reward for her return gave him a new lead to chase.
“Unfortunately, there’s been no sign of her. Might I ask about your
involvement with Miss Tate? That’s quite a substantial reward
you’ve posted.”

Rommell’s
attention seemed caught by something on stage. “Nelly was under
certain contractual obligations to me. I ensured that she gained
the role she desired, and was properly attired in jewels and
clothes, and in return...” He gave a suggestive gesture.

“
Ah.” Nothing more needed to be said. Nelly had been Rommell’s
mistress. “Are you aware that flowers were delivered to her almost
every week during her last run? Red roses. They didn’t by chance
come from you?”

Dark eyes
glanced his way. “I’m not the only one with an eye for actresses.
No doubt some of my peers sought to steal her out from under me.
She was always receiving flowers. I cannot say she ever had red
roses in her dressing rooms, however.” He grimaced. “Had a thing
for peonies, I believe. Received them every now and then, and
they’re the only damned things she’d keep. I can hardly fathom her
interest, they’re so cheap.”

Not every
woman liked the best that money could buy. Though he did frown a
little. Nelly liked peonies, did she? It was the kind of thing
someone of less-well-to-do-stature could afford. And she received
them regularly? He’d thought they only came on her birthday.

Following the
focus of Rommell’s gaze, Garrett realized the lord was
surreptitiously eyeing up Miss Radcliffe, which was curious. “You
were sweet on her?” he suggested, though he didn’t believe his own
words. “Is that why the reward?”

“
I want to damned well know where she is,” Rommell growled.
“She was
my
mistress, and I wasn’t finished with her yet. If someone’s
stolen her out from under me, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“
Why would you presume someone’s stolen her?”

Rommell looked
surprised. “Well, what else could have happened? Where else could
she have gone? I’d given her the best role in this damned theatre,
and more than enough coin to see her well in hand. She won’t have
run from that. But I have enemies, and those jealous enough of my
success to make me wonder. If they managed to somehow snatch her
out from underneath my nose, they’ll be crowing to themselves about
such a coup. I can’t allow that to stand. No, you mark my words.
You should be searching among the Echelon for one of my rivals.
They’ll have her. I’ll bet fifty quid on it.”

Nelly wasn’t a
piece of furniture, but it was clear that Rommell thought of her as
little more than a possession. The roses, Garrett suspected,
definitely weren’t from his lordship.

After all, why
buy a woman flowers when he’d already bought her? That type of
thinking was clearly up Rommell’s alley.

Garrett smiled
tightly. “Perhaps you could see fit to furnishing me with a list of
those who might wish you harm.” A way to placate his lordship and
see to it that all leads were pursued.

Rommell
obviously thought he was the centre of his own little world, but
some gut instinct made Garrett wonder. There was more to this than
a petty squabble between blue bloods, and although it wasn’t
entirely unknown for this kind of thing to occur in the Echelon, it
would certainly be frowned upon. Nelly might only be human, but
most blue blood lords kept to strict societal rules dictating which
type of women were to be thralls - those debutantes that made
thrall contracts with lords, exchanging their blood rights for
protection, clothing and jewellery - and those that the blue bloods
could parade around on a leash as a blood slave. A slave had no
rights, but most of those young women were sold from Newgate or
other lowly establishments, upon committing a crime. Only rarely
were they kidnapped off the streets, or out of a theatre.

That would be
somewhat beyond the pale. And Nelly was too well known for her to
be paraded around as a blood-slave.

“
And if she doesn’t return?” he asked.

“
Mistresses come, then they go,” Rommell replied. “You know
how it is.” He was watching Miss Radcliffe again, barely paying
attention to Garrett.

“
Not really. I don’t need to pay for my women.”

The insult was
lost on the bastard. Rommell smiled. “Or perhaps you can’t afford
them, hmm?” He flicked at a piece of lint on his sleeve. “I imagine
circumstances are rather straitened as a Nighthawk.”

“
I make do.” It was none of the bastard’s business about
Garrett’s relationships with women. Any of them. And he despised
the way Rommell obviously thought them interchangeable.
Garrett
liked
women. He was still friendly with the majority of his
ex-paramours, and found them mostly interesting and quite
witty.

He simply
hadn’t found the right one yet. Someone who caught his breath, and
made him forget every other young woman he’d ever met.

And speaking
of young ladies... Garrett checked his pocket watch. Three O’clock,
and no sign of Perry. He glanced at the stage, where Miss Radcliffe
was discussing her cue with the director. Indecision gripped him.
Stay here to keep an eye on the actress who’d received an
interesting letter, or go after Perry?

She hated
being coddled, and she was frighteningly proficient when she needed
to be, but that didn’t make it any easier to wait for her. If
something had happened to her...

Rommell made
the decision easier. The way he was watching poor Miss Radcliffe
was practically proprietary. It made him feel ill to watch.

“
If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Rommell. Miss Radcliffe was
safe for the moment, with so many eyes upon her.

And Perry -
practical, punctual Perry - was late.

Perry balanced
on the table she’d dragged under the trapdoor, and concentrated on
slipping the thin metal file she’d found below, between the crack
in the trapdoor. It was frustrating work trying to unlatch the lock
from this angle, and her lantern was rapidly burning down.

The bell above
rang, and she froze as footsteps entered the shop.

Lovecraft? Or
someone else?

Perry slid the
file back down silently, trying not to betray her presence. Then
the unmistakable scent of Garrett’s cologne caught her
attention.

Her shoulders
slumped. Thank goodness. Reaching up, she hammered on the floor.
“I’m down here!”

A snort
sounded. “Looks like I am rescuing you, after all. What shall you
owe me for this, hmm?”

“
I shall
not
punch you in the chest when you let me out,” she promised,
with a faint growl at the end of her words.

“
Tempting... But I think you owe me more than
that.”

Perry pressed
her hand against the timber beams, and grimaced. “What do you
want?”

“
The paperwork on this case is yours,” he said smugly. “All of
it.”

Of all the rotten
... Perry glared up
through the floor. She despised paperwork. Most of the time Garrett
took care of it when her perfunctory notes didn’t meet with Lynch’s
approval. “I’ll oil your guns,” she suggested, instead.

“
As well as the paperwork? That’s considerably generous of
you.”

“
Garrett
...”

“
Is that a promise?”

Silence. She
thumped the trapdoor. “Yes. Fine. It’s a promise. Get me the hell
out of here.”

The lock
snicked and light flooded in, highlighting Garrett’s broad
shoulders, and devastatingly handsome smile. He rested one hand on
his knee and reached out the other to her. “Well, this looks like
an interesting story. Care to tell?”

Grabbing hold
of his hand, she hopped up lightly, and he used his considerable
strength to haul her out into the shop. Landing on her tiptoes left
her somewhat unbalanced and she slammed a palm into his chest to
keep herself from tumbling into his arms. There’d be none of that
nonsense.

Though she
felt heat spilling through her cheeks.

She’d always
been aware of him as a man, but it was only recently - since the
start of the case - that she’d begun to realize that perhaps it
wasn’t only the temptation to watch him, that she would have to
guard. It was troubling, this... this sense of jealousy over a
woman who’d caught his eye. More troubling to realize that she’d
been feeling this way for a lot longer than she’d been consciously
aware of.