Steam Me Up, Rawley

by Angela Quarles

  Dr. Rawley settled onto the bench beside her and removed his top hat, placing it on the other side. He ran large hands through his thick, black hair. “So what have you learned?”

  She quickly outlined the little she’d been able to glean, which wasn’t much now she had to scratch off her prime suspect.

  When she’d finished, she asked, “Do you think part of the rumors could be true? That it’s a physician?”

  “Hard to say as I haven’t seen the bodies.”

  “But if you were able to?”

  He frowned. “It’s possible I could tell. Any chance I could see them?”

  She stilled. “You’re going to help me?”

  “Why not? This means a lot to you.”

  Her heart gave an extra da-dump. And for a second, those words seduced. Seduced her away from proper sense. He seemed perfectly sincere. “It does. But I also need to do this on my own. And what about your practice?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it. Reporters consult with others all the time who have knowledge they don’t possess. It helps them be more thorough.”

  “I suppose...”

  “You talked to Madam Sophie, did you not? And you want to talk to those merchant captains?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “They were helping you, correct?”

  She blew a breath. “True.”

  “And as far as my practice is concerned, it’s not like I can’t spare some time. I can’t always be working.”

  Her jaw dropped at this last statement. That certainly hadn’t been her experience with Father. He never had spare time.

  She stood and paced around the gazebo. Loki was swinging from a crepe myrtle branch. He looked over and returned to his antics. She must prove she could do this on her own, prove it to Father, but Dr. Rawley was right—reporters sought expert advice or information from witnesses and associates. But could she accept his help? Before today’s revelations, she’d meant to keep him at parasol’s length anyway. Not encourage Father’s fevered imagination that she marry. She hadn’t heard the end of the telephone conversation, so she still needed to be wary of the marriage scheme, but his dismissal of her probably meant she was safe from further advances.

  And she needed that job. “All right, I’ll accept your help.”

  She returned to the bench and sat next to him, but a little farther away than before. He was always in her space.

  He picked up his hat and placed it on his lap. He tapped a slow beat on top. “So, how can I best have this happen? Does your father know the coroner? Can he pull in a favor?”

  “Oh, yes. Everyone knows everyone here. But what shall you tell my father?”

  “The truth.”

  “But he’ll know you’re helping me!”

  His fingers stilled on his hat. “So?”

  “But, he’ll wonder why.”

  “Naturally, he’ll assume I still wish to court you and mean to show off to gain your attention. He’ll assist me. After all, he wants us married, correct?”

  That panic returned. But he didn’t seem to require an answer so she ignored it.

  “All right. So you’ll talk to my father. And I’ll question the boat captains if they’re still in port tomorrow.”

  He crossed his arms over his hat. “I’ll accompany you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like you going to the docks and questioning such unsavory characters.”

  “I can do such things on my own. This doesn’t take a doctor’s expert opinion to perform.”

  He raised a brow. “But you need a man’s protection.”

  Indignation flared through her chest. “Oh, hog spit. I’ll be perfectly fine. I’ll have Loki with me.”

  Dr. Rawley glanced at said monkey who was now splashing in the water fountain. “What can he do?”

  “You’d be surprised at his combat skills. Why do you think he wears armor?”

  A corner of his mouth quirked. “Actually, I did wonder.”

  “I inherited him from a man who claimed to be an airship pirate. He came to my father for help when the Saffron Scourge last visited Mobile.”

  “Saffron Scourge?”

  She waved her hands. “Yellow Fever. Bronze John. It has several names here.”

  “I’ve heard of Yellow Fever, but have never seen it before in England, of course.”

  “Unfortunately, we get it in waves every couple of years. No one knows the cause. It just happens. Anyway, my father is a member of the Can’t Get Away Club—”

  “—the Can’t Get Away Club?”

  “Yes, it’s a local group of citizens who’ve agreed to not leave the city if ever it hits. Instead they’ll stay and assist those afflicted and those who can’t leave. It’s kind of a misnomer, since they can get away, but they choose not to. Father is one of the group’s few doctors.”

  “So your pirate...”

  “He wasn’t my pirate. I didn’t even see him.” And boy had that burned. It had also fueled her previous determination to captain an airship. To be so free, open to the skies, able to go anywhere...

  “So, the pirate who was not yours?”

  “He succumbed to the disease and perished like so many others, leaving poor Loki behind. Father had already sent my brother, Great-Aunt Linette, and me to stay with relatives in New Orleans.” She braced herself. Talking about Yellow Fever always evoked memories of Maman and losing her to the same epidemic. “When my...” She stopped; she didn’t want to go there. “Finding himself alone in the house, Father didn’t know what to do with the poor creature, so he put him in a spare bedroom. By the time we returned, Loki was distraught not only with grief for his owner but had been cooped up for days. He looked on me as heaven-sent and ever since has been attached to my side.” And had been the solace she’d needed during that horrible time.

  “The armor?”

  “I tried taking it off him when I first met him, but he’d have none of it.”

  Dr. Rawley glanced back at Loki, brow furrowed. “How do you know he’ll protect you?”

  “I’ve had a gentleman make untoward advances before, and Loki reacted quickly, jumping on the fellow’s face and scratching and pulling on hair. Quite effective, let me tell you.”

  He leaned away and stared warily at Loki. “I shall remember that.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you plan on making untoward advances?” It felt good to be able to tease him, knowing he had no interest in her.

  He straightened, alarm flashing across his face. Then he smiled. “No. They will not be untoward.”

  A little bubble of excitement flared in her belly. She’d ignore that. “So we’re agreed on our plan for tomorrow?” She wouldn’t admire how his shoulders filled his coat so well. Or his strong hands atop his hat, gripping his gloves. Or how intently he listened. Listened like she mattered.

  “I don’t like it.” He looked at Loki. “But I gather I don’t have a choice in the matter. When will you visit the docks?”

  “I believe I’ll go first thing in the morning. Catch them before they go into places I won’t follow.” She glanced at him. “Alone.”

  He nodded. “And I’ll talk to your father tonight about the coroner, see if he can get me in to view the bodies.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She smiled, but for some reason an awkward silence descended, filling the space between them.

  He glanced at her lips and at Loki. “Yes. Well.” He gave his head a little shake. “I suppose we should go inside?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” They walked up the shell path, and she made sure to keep the prescribed distance from his person. She didn’t suit him, but Lord, his exhilarating presence, his willingness to expend time on her, his treating her like an ally—these revelations as to his character were like veins of water seeping into her foundation, threatening her existence, her determination to blaze her own trail.

  Chapter Twelve

  How A Not-So-Simple Kiss Can Illuminate Matters For
All Involved

  The mechanical voice of the Oyster Steam Man floated to Adele’s ears as she passed it on Miss Smarty Pants. “Fresh oysters from the bay. Come and get ‘em.”

  Adele parked the tricycle against a building on Water Street and pulled Loki onto her shoulder. She gave Smarty Pants a pat. She hadn’t broken down once since Miss Eileen had fixed it.

  “Ready to go, buddy?”

  “Nree sktcheee!”

  She scratched him under the chin and headed for the first of the two merchant marine vessels docked in port.

  As she approached the steam-powered automaton, two dock workers clambered to its side. The Oyster Steam Man pushed a small cart filled with oysters, and like other vending machines, a trained monkey sat on its shoulder ready to swat and screech if a customer didn’t insert the proper number of coins into the slot. If that didn’t suffice, the cart sat on a weighing scale. If its load was lightened without first having the correct amount of coins deposited, Edison wires sent an electrical jolt to the thieving fingers.

  She stepped around the gathered customers, and Loki waved to the other monkey. These automaton hawkers were a new sight on Mobile’s streets, and already she’d heard grumbling from the working class. Maybe she could investigate that story too? Search out and interview those displaced and work up a story on the cost of progress?

  Quelling her unease at the nearby water, she took a deep breath and approached her quarry. After all, she wasn’t boarding the boat, just talking to one of its occupants.

  Lazy waves lapped against the double boiler steamship. The smell of the bay was thicker here, and Adele choked back a wave of nausea.

  Over the side of the boat, ropes suspended a plank platform containing a scruffy man scraping barnacles off the hull.

  “May I speak to your captain?” she shouted up to him.

  A weather-beaten face peeked down, eyes shadowed by his flop cap. “Who’s asking?”

  “Miss de la Pointe. With the Mobile Register.” Still a thrill saying that.

  An inventive string of curses flew through the air. She made note of them. “One moment, miss.”

  He set down his tools, shimmied up a rope ladder, and disappeared from view. She looked around, trying to ignore the water’s proximity. A foot away.

  “You asked for me?” a gruff voice sounded at her elbow.

  She jumped, turned, and was confronted by a stacked beef of a man, whose hard, jutting jaw and steely, penetrating eyes radiated impatience.

  “Oh, yes.” She forced her muscles to relax and hid her nervousness by pulling out her pad and pen. “Thank you for meeting me. I’m with the paper, and I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  He crossed his burly arms, the mermaid tattoo on his biceps undulating as he flexed. All that beef dwarfed a leather-bound book tucked under his arm. “Make it quick,” he bit out.

  “I’m investigating the recent murders in town, and I was wondering if you knew of any suspicious behavior among your crew?”

  “You suspect a member of my crew to be the killer?” He drew himself taller.

  “I’m just working all the angles. It occurred to me, with this being a port city, it might not be a citizen at all, but a sailor on shore leave.”

  He glared.

  She straightened her shoulders. “So you see, I asked around. Your ship and one other are the only two that were in port at the time of the murders.”

  He whipped around and stalked away.

  Criminy. She hustled to catch up to him. “You must be confident none of your crew is the killer. What if that confidence is misplaced, and you end up dead too?”

  His steps faltered. He glared at her over his shoulder. “I know me way around a knife. Don’t worry your pretty head about me.”

  “Enough to face down a man who can gut someone from stem to stern?” She slashed her hand upward in front of him.

  He faced her now. Good.

  Hands on hips, he said, his voice not as cocky, “I heard he kills only doxies.”

  She stepped forward. “You heard? Has this happened at other ports where you’ve docked?”

  He shook his head. “Only here. Nasty business. In fact, I canceled shore leave for my crew. Couldn’t risk them getting caught up in some police raid.”

  “Did you take on any new crew at your last stop?”

  “Only Jeffers, but he’s not yet fourteen.”

  Out of questions, but thrilled she’d held her own against such an intimidating man, she thanked him and walked down the river to the next ship.

  She found the captain on board as well, but it appeared he was out of temper. His clothes looked like he’d slept in them, and his eyes were bloodshot. He was none too pleasant. He proved to be more recalcitrant than the first captain.

  “Why in blue blazes am I talking to a slip of a girl like you? I owe you no explanations about my ship, myself, or my crew.”

  A rush of energy suffused her brain, her muscles, and made her heart gallop in do-I-have-the-reins strides. Calm down. She had a right to be here. She gripped her skirts. “Sir, I’m trying to investigate the recent murders.”

  “Investigate elsewhere,” he shouted, a puff of alcoholic fumes engulfing her. She refrained from waving her hand to dispel the odor.

  “One more question. Did you take on any new crew at your last port?”

  “Several.” He advanced and grabbed her by the arm and shook her. “Now listen, missy. Keep away from my ship and my crew.”

  “Unhand me, sir.” She was proud her voice betrayed none of her agitation.

  He shook her again and raised his hand. Loki screeched, but the captain paid him no mind.

  “I’m warning you,” he hissed. “Keep away.”

  Her heart popped into her throat and pounded, pounded. “I have a right to ask questions.”

  His hand pulled back. In a blur of movement and fur, Loki was on the captain’s head caterwauling and yanking out oily hanks of hair. The brute staggered back, his hands squeezing Loki, but the armor protected him. “Get off me, you beast.”

  “Loki, come.” Her monkey scrabbled to the top of the man’s head and looked at her. He screeched one more time and leapt straight to her shoulder. Once steady, he turned and shook a fist at the befuddled captain. She gave the man a good glare and strode away. She took a great risk turning her back on him, but she knew Loki would give an alarm. She wouldn’t let that cretin intimidate her, and he needed to know it.

  Excitement pumped through her veins. Yes! She loved this rush. It energized her, made her feel alive. She grinned.

  Good God, what kind of creature was this?

  Phillip ducked into a nearby alcove, unspent frenetic energy coursing a seductive path through him, and stared in awe at the scene playing before him. He’d been ready to give away his presence and jump to her defense, but Loki had handled it quite effectively.

  And now she was grinning?

  She definitely was the strangest creature he’d ever encountered. She appeared to enjoy it.

  He’d followed her, of course, not willing to see her come to harm. She reached her vehicle, humming a jaunty tune, and tucked Loki into a basket.

  Hands fisted at his sides, Phillip stepped from the shadows, angered and wanting her to know it, the contrast of his concern with her lackadaisical attitude so jarring, it had to be addressed. “What do you think you were doing?”

  She jerked, and her eyes widened. “Dr. Rawley!” The excitement lent her cheeks a charming pink glow.

  His breathing came faster. Blood rushed to his groin. The witchy woman caused his body to react in an annoying manner.

  She stepped toward him. “You followed me.” No recrimination colored her tone, just simple surprise, as if shocked he’d put in the effort on her behalf.

  “Someone had to keep an eye on you.” His gaze locked on her lush lips. Dropped to her bosom, her rapid breathing making them rise and fall in a most becoming manner.

  And he couldn’t help it—he cupped her
face, pushed her against the wall, and crushed her mouth with his. Heat speared through him, tightening his loins. Just one taste of that fire, that energy. He had to feel that energy, experience that energy. He had to know that energy. What made her unsuitable also made her so delectable. Just. One. Taste.

  Then all thought fled but for the enjoyment of her soft lips. When she opened them slightly, he groaned and took advantage, tasting her. She tasted of excitement. Of freedom. Of danger. And it sizzled through him.

  Her arms encircled his neck, and he needed no further encouragement. He pressed against her, the fabric of her bustle scrunching against the brick wall. It cushioned her hips so they pressed toward him, her soft curves molding against him, making him lightheaded. Her lavender scent enveloped him, mixing with the taste, the experience of her, firing him further.

  “Scree tchee!”

  He pulled away, breathing hard. Her eyes were now a darker brown, and her face more flushed.

  Hell’s. Teeth.

  His chest tightened with horror and shame. Shame for his weakness, horror for the mess he’d created.

  Hands shaking, he picked his top hat off the ground where it had fallen, brushed it off, and placed it back in position. “Pardon me. I don’t know what came over me.” He gulped in air and gazed around.

  He’d kissed her. Brazenly. And on a public street.

  “It’s perfectly all right. I understand.”

  “You do?” His voice came out a tad high.

  “Of course.” She rubbed his arm. “Being a man of daring and high passions, you were caught up in the moment. Perfectly understandable, I assure you.”

  High passions? Daring? This woman had him all wrong. “I’m not such as you describe.” Not if he could help it. Revulsion choked him—as if his body recoiled from the blood he inherited from his mother. Her blood would not control him. Passion was a weakness. A weakness any sane, rational man worked hard to avoid. A weakness he had no notion he harbored until meeting Miss de la Pointe.