by Sahara Kelly
“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.
“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.