Moonlight & Mechanicals (16 page)

“I know.” She gave him a look that reminded him of how much she must have seen of the seamier side of life in Wapping. “I wouldn’t have bothered with the other coppers, but I knew you were looking into folks gone missing.”

“Thank you for that.” He flipped his notebook shut. “Would your cook be up to speaking with me?”

Mrs. Hawkins nodded. “She will. Cook is my sister, by the way. Never wanted anything to do with my side of the business, but she keeps us all well fed.”

Liam stood and offered her his arm. “I promise to do whatever I can to find your nephew.”

“Or at least…a body, or something. It would be better to know.” She took his arm and led him down to the kitchen.

That was becoming a common refrain, but he didn’t say that to Madame.

Back at the Yard, Liam set a photograph of Toby Hawkins out on his desk alongside the ones of Eamon Miller, Marco Cavallo and Nicolas Roman from the carnival. Beside those, he laid the sketch of the metal man and a list of names and descriptions of some of the other people reported missing in Wapping and Rotherhite. As far as Liam could tell, they had nothing in common besides relative fitness and unfortunate timing with regard to walking alone at night.

A knock sounded on his door, and Liam looked up to find Tom Devere standing in the hallway. “Come in. Didn’t know you were back in town.” Liam hoped to hell Wink hadn’t said anything about their interlude the night before. While he deserved a beating, he didn’t have time to deal with it now. He just hoped to hell that their kiss hadn’t been what led her to going off to Wapping with Jamie.

“My superiors seemed to think you could use another pair of hands.” Tom came in and studied the photographs and notes, reading upside down. “That’s Eamon Miller, isn’t it? Are those the other missing people?”

“You’ve been well briefed.” Liam nodded. “I’m not supposed to be spending time on anything but the Ascot case, but I keep running into dead ends there, so I thought I’d clear my head by looking at this one for a bit. There’s been another man reported missing, just this morning.” He swiftly caught Tom up on the progress—or lack thereof—that he’d made on the Miller disappearance.

“What a mess.” Tom dropped onto the chair opposite the desk. “I could strangle Jamie and Wink for going down to the Pig last night without anyone to watch their backs. But how about your other case? Have you gotten any more information about Lord Eustace or his friend Kersleigh? Do you still think they’re involved in this possible revolution I keep seeing pamphlets for?”

Liam shrugged. “Maybe. Probably, at least in Kersleigh’s case. I’ve done a little more digging on him, and it’s interesting. He’s got a couple of minor patents in the last few years, but other than that, he’s stayed decidedly quiet. No employment records, hell, not even birth, marriage, baptism or anything.”

“So you’ve no idea who his parents are?”

“He claims his mother was the daughter of a duke.” Liam stacked up his notes on the Wapping case and got out the file on Kersleigh. “The problem is, there aren’t all that many dukes running about, and I was able to trace most of their living descendants. No record of any duke’s daughter marrying a Kersleigh. I have a list of ducal grandchildren around the right age, but most of those can be accounted for. Not a Victor in the lot.”

“Damn.” Tom flipped through the notes. “It looks like Kersleigh has made most of his money gambling?”

“That’s what it seems,” Liam said. “Also a little from his inventions—switches and springs, mostly. Nothing major—Wink wasn’t even familiar with the name, or the innovations.” That said a lot. If the developments were significant and involved clockwork servants, Wink would know.

“Maybe she can check around in her engineering circle and see what anyone there knows about this Kersleigh,” Tom said. “They do tend to stick together.”

Liam sighed. “I suppose. I’d really rather see her and Nell go up to the Hall for the duration. I was hoping you could convince them, since they won’t listen to me. This has all the makings of a monumental disaster, and they’d be a lot safer out of town.”

Tom shook his head and snorted. “You’re joking, right? Nell might consider it, if she didn’t have her final recital soon. But Wink? I’d have to hog tie her and chloroform her to get her to leave. You’re on your own trying to make that happen, my friend. I like having all my teeth.”

“Glad to know you care what happens to your sisters.”

“Of course I care, but there isn’t much I can do, even if I wanted to. They’re of age, so I have no legal right to force them to do anything,” Tom said. “Beyond that, I like having my balls attached to my body. Would I rather keep them safe? Hell yes. But they’re both adults and they’re both smart. They won’t put themselves in unnecessary danger, but they’re not the kind of girls to sit on the sidelines and let the men handle all the fighting. If they had been, they’d never have survived growing up.”

“Right.” Liam knew that, even admired it, but the thought of Wink being mixed up in this made his stomach clench. Furthermore, if she was in Northumberland, she wouldn’t be here, a constant temptation. “Just try to help keep them out of trouble, would you? And Jamie while you’re at it.”

Tom nodded. “Of course. Now tell me what I can do to help.”

Liam looked at his notes. “Well, since you’re not a younger son,
Sir
Tom, it won’t do you any good to try to get into this club. How do you feel about going through land registry deed records, including recorded leases? Kersleigh’s residence in town is just a room, and Eustace lives with his family. If they’re up to anything, they have to have a sizeable base of operations, in or near the city. Possibly also something not too far from Ascot, if that’s where their coup is supposed to take place.”

“Which could mean anything from a warehouse to a factory to a farm or a grand estate.” Tom groaned. “Even using the analytical engines, that could take days. You’re just trying to punish me for not going along with your scheme about the girls.”

Liam grinned. “Police work—gets more exiting by the minute, doesn’t it?”

“Right.” Tom stood. “I’m on my way. Come dig me up if I molder in some clerk’s back room for too long.”

“Good.” That ought to keep Tom busy for the day, if not several. As soon as the younger man was safely away, Liam picked up his hat and coat. He was off to buy luncheon for Lord Eustace and work a little more on getting an invitation to his elusive and exclusive organization of younger sons.

To Liam’s surprise, Eustace was at Whites, the first club he checked. He hoped that was a sign that things were finally about to go right in this investigation. “McCullough, good to see you. Pull up a chair, Inspector. I have good news.”

Liam slid into the supple leather easy chair next to Eustace. A waiter appeared at his elbow, and Liam asked for coffee, but told the man to bring Eustace another of whatever he was drinking.

“Hoped I’d see you today,” Eustace said. “Got a meeting tonight. Kersleigh said it was all right to invite you.”

“A meeting?” Liam forced his body to remain relaxed, though he was practically quivering at the thought. “What kind of meeting?”

“The Prodigal’s Club,” Eustace said. “We’re having a meeting tonight at Mrs. Renquist’s salon.”

“That’s what it’s called?” Liam supposed the name fit. He accepted his coffee from the servant and sipped. “Who’s Mrs. Renquist?”

Eustace laughed. “Forgot you don’t circulate much in society. She’s Bertie Haversham’s mistress. Holds salons for the arty types—writers and painters and so on, but this one is just for the Club.”

Liam shrugged. “What’s the address? And the time? If I find myself with nothing else to do tonight, I may pop in and see this club for myself.” Lord Bertie Haversham was the third son of a marquess. He liked to consider himself a scholar and a poet. While he had money, as far as Liam knew, he regularly ran up gambling debts that his father balked at paying. Was he one of the instigators behind his rebellion? Liam would have to let Tom know to add Haversham’s name to his list.

Eustace scribbled something on a card and passed it over. “There you go. Nine sharp.”

“So what goes on at these meetings?” Liam slid the card into his coat pocket. “Anything I should be preparing for?”

“We just talk about ways to help one another out,” Eustace said. “Compare notes on the injustice of primogeniture.”

“Something I’m sure we all know all too well.” Liam tipped his head, though he was lying through his teeth. While the law leaving everything to the eldest male heir was on the ridiculous side, Liam didn’t have any personal complaints. He wished his brother and all his probable nephews all the best of health. The last thing he wanted was the earldom and all the nonsense that went with it. The idea of giving up London, of no longer working for the police, made his skin crawl. Focusing on the job gave him the patience to deal with Eustace for another hour. After that he went back to the Yard to make arrangements for the evening.

Liam wasn’t foolish enough to go into a possible trap without support. Shortly before nine that evening he dressed for an elegant salon and set out from his house in a hired hack. No one would recognize the driver as Tom Devere, and certainly no one would notice Jamie Hadrian, all in black, sneak out of the coach and follow Liam up to the house. Jojo, a small mechanical monkey that was one of Wink’s creations, clung to Jamie’s shoulder—the first time Liam had see the automated pet in years.

“He has his uses,” Jamie said as Tom drove them across town. “He can get into windows sometimes when I can’t.”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know anything about that,” Liam said. “I’d hate to have to arrest you.”

Jamie shrugged. “The thing is, he’s tuned to your voice as well as mine. If you say his name, he’ll come to you, no matter if there’s glass in between. He’s got a knife blade hidden in his spine, and a small gun in his cap. If he goes in, that will let Tom and I know things have gone wrong.”

“Good.” Liam eyed the monkey carefully, disconcerted to think that what looked like a child’s plaything was in reality a clockwork armory. “Well, at least you didn’t bring George.”

Jamie shrugged. “Then we’d have had to tell Wink where we were going. We didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Good point. What did you tell her?” Hopefully the story would be good enough to keep her from following them—something he wouldn’t put past her.

“We’re all playing cards at your house.” Jamie grinned. “With Connor making the fourth. No ladies allowed.”

“And if Wink sees Connor somewhere else?” After their altercation earlier in the day, Liam didn’t look forward to socializing with Connor anytime soon.

“She won’t. We’re picking him up now.” Jamie pointed out the window. Sure enough, they’d stopped just outside the MacKays’ townhouse.

“Wonderful.” Could this investigation turn into more of a farce? Liam nodded at Connor as the man climbed into the coach, dressed as a middle-class servant. Liam cracked his knuckles. “Well, gentlemen, if we’re lucky, we can wrap this business up tonight.” Perhaps they’d even get to break a few noses while they were at it. A nice satisfying brawl would do him no end of good.

Connor and Jamie both nodded their agreement.

Mrs. Renquist’s house was situated in a quiet street. The narrow, three-story townhouse was marked by a blazingly pink front door with matching geraniums spilling from several window boxes.

“Doesn’t look much like a den of insurgents,” Tom said as he hopped down to open the door. “Sure you’re willing to risk going inside on your own?”

“Har har.” Liam made a show of paying off the driver. Once Tom had pulled the hack around the corner, the others would slip out to take their positions.

The house proved to be as pink on the inside as it was on the exterior. A nondescript butler ushered Liam through a salmon-pink hallway and into a pale rose salon. Perhaps a dozen men mingled in the cozy room, along with a total of three women. Most of the men were familiar to Liam, and none of the women. A plump, middle-aged matron in a confection of pink and white lace sat next to Haversham, who presided over the room. With fading blond hair and pale blue eyes, she looked more like someone’s dotty maiden aunt than Liam’s idea of a mistress, but she matched the décor too well to be anyone but the hostess.

Eustace came over to welcome Liam in and led him to his hosts. “Haversham, you know McCullough here, don’t you? His pater is Lord Bell, but our man here works for Scotland Yard.”

“We’ve met.” Albert Haversham, a balding fellow whose clothes were too small for his portly form, held out a hand for Liam to shake. “Welcome to our so-called society, McCullough. May I introduce your hostess, Mrs. Renquist? Lily, dear, this is Inspector McCullough.”

Liam greeted her with all the decorum he’d use for one of the haute ton and she smiled like a debutante, fluttering her lashes. “Welcome, Inspector. I do hope you enjoy our little gathering.”

“I’ve looked forward to it all day.” Liam looked around the room taking note of the faces. None of the men had been particularly high on his list of possible fomenters of rebellion. “Just what does one do in a younger son’s club?”

“We’re not all seconds or thirds,” Haversham said. “Woodford over there is a bastard, so even though he’s Viscount Markham’s oldest, he can’t inherit. Kersleigh, who isn’t here tonight, is the grandson of a duke, but through his mother, so the poor blighter is cut off without a groat.”

“Ah, now that makes sense.” Liam nodded. “So we just get together to commiserate, is that it? Spend some time among our peers? Maybe play some cards?”

Eustace chuckled. “Well, we’re not planning to secretly do away with each other’s relations you know. Don’t think I’d be any good at that sort of thing, do you?”

Liam laughed along with the others. “No, I suppose not.” Oddly, that was one scheme he hadn’t considered for this group, though he probably should have.

“Mostly this is just a social gathering, but we are trying to get the inheritance laws changed,” said another man, one Liam recognized as a distant relation to the royal family. “Some of us have a bit of influence, and we get together to discuss how to use it. Watson over there is a barrister, lets us know what the law is up to. Haversham here is trying to get a seat in Commons. We’re all working on raising funds for his campaign.”