Last Orders

by Laura Strickland

  “Yes, Mr. Ballister informed me in his first letter.” But it felt far different being here, seeing one of her creations and imagining it.

  Michaels spoke huskily. “I was there that night and saw it all. You have to understand, Miss Landry, the Ladies acted in their own defense. Dr. Landry threatened to shut them all off. That’s like death to them.”

  “Mr. Michaels, I’m not here to accuse or blame anyone. I have problems to solve and, quite frankly, don’t know how to go about it.”

  Michaels scowled. “Then you’re not here looking for revenge?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  The waitress arrived with a tray bearing three cups, a teapot, and a plate of dainties. Michaels chafed visibly till she left, when he spoke again.

  “Because you see, Miss Landry, when this Mr. Ballister asked us to meet you, we thought maybe you’d come to stake your claim.”

  “Claim, Mr. Michaels?”

  His worried brown eyes met hers directly. “After Dr. Landry died, the Ladies all believed—hoped—they were free. We didn’t know she had an heir. Now that you’ve turned up, does that mean they have an owner again?”

  Ginny felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She eyed the couple before her—so visibly bonded it made her ache—and tried to imagine how it must feel fearing the person…being…you loved most in the world might be declared property. Desperately, she sought for a way to reassure them.

  “I’m no expert on the finer points of the law, and Mr. Ballister has proposed nothing definite about repossession of the hybrid units.”

  “Yet you’ve inherited everything that belonged to your mother.”

  “Yes. But I assure you I want no part of owning anyone. Mr. Michaels, news travels slowly to the Dakota Territories. My father and I were appalled when we learned what Candace Landry had been doing here in Buffalo, even though he knew she’d had an interest in such research back before they parted ways. He says she was obsessed with what she called feminine purity and had spoken about alternatives to prostitution. But my father had no idea of the extent to which her research had progressed. And I had no idea till Mr. Ballister told me that she’d actually constructed hybrid prostitutes.”

  She met Lily’s pale blue gaze. “I understand she forced you and the other units into that service.”

  “Yes.” Lily toyed with the cup in front of her. “It was not supposed to matter to us, you see. We were not supposed to mind, because we had no feelings. But we were also created to learn and adapt. The truth is we learned to mind being touched by strangers and being expected to perform lewd acts.”

  “Don’t talk about it,” Michaels growled. He both looked and sounded like a guard dog, but Ginny didn’t blame him. Something about Lily made her, too, feel protective.

  “Of course you minded,” she said. “No one could meet you and expect you not to mind. I’m so sorry.”

  “It is not your fault.” Lily lifted her chin. “And I always say it was worth it because that is how I met Rey.”

  Ginny exchanged a speaking glance with Michaels. “I understand. How many of you—former Landry’s Ladies—are there?”

  “Twenty-three of us remain. There were originally ten built, then a second batch of ten, and a third.”

  Building so many units, Ginny thought, would require a lot of corpses.

  “Some were destroyed in the fire at the Crystal Palace. A couple were out of service before that—one had been shut down for disobedience. I have a good life now. I am married, and Rey has a fine job. I read a great deal. Rey and I are attempting to adopt a child.”

  “I heard something about that, yes.”

  Rey spoke. “There’s a lot of feeling against it. Folks think it’s not right for machines to be in charge of raising human children. But half the big houses in this city have steam servants as nannies who bring up the kids. So what’s the difference? Anyway, I’ve seen the way children live in these orphanages. Almost anything would be better.”

  “Do you think your attempt to adopt will be blocked?”

  Rey flicked a glance at Lily. “I think we have a chance, if only because I’m human. I’ll probably have to end up applying to adopt in my name with Lily listed as steam nanny. It’s not right, but…”

  “I don’t mind,” Lily said. “Rey took me to see the orphanage. There was this one little girl in particular. Miss Ginny, she weeps every night for her dead mama. She needs a mama and we need a child. It is only right.”

  Ginny’s throat closed. “I hope you succeed. If there’s anything I can do…”

  Michaels gulped some tea and said, “To be frank, we thought adopting was our biggest problem, till you turned up. Now, Miss Landry, you could scuttle the whole thing—our adoption and our marriage—if Lily’s declared your property.”

  “I don’t want that.” Ginny reached across the table and covered Lily’s hand with hers. “As I’ve told you, I’m only here to tie up Candace Landry’s business. I have no interest in…in disrupting anyone. I promise I will do my best, through Mr. Ballister, to have you legally declared free.”

  Once more Lily’s pale gaze met hers. “Truly?”

  “I do so promise.”

  “And what of the others, Miss Ginny? After the night Dr. Landry got killed, most of the Ladies and members of the Irish Squad paired up. They’d like to adopt too, but it’ll never be allowed, not with feeling so against steamies as it is right now. Perhaps if you declared them free, as well…”

  “Of course. Mr. Ballister described to me something of your struggle for liberation.” She lowered her voice. “In fact the Automaton Liberation League has made me an offer for my mother’s interest in the charity hospital on Ellicott Street.” She looked at Lily with sympathy. “I understand that’s where you”—she waved a hand helplessly—“came from.”

  “Really?” Lily brightened. “I’ve always wanted to learn more about the woman who first possessed my skin, eyes, and hair.”

  “Girl,” Rey corrected. “She was just a beautiful girl.”

  “I would like to know her name.”

  “I should have access to the hospital records. I could look through them and see if I can make sense of anything. Of course, there may be no list of the women my mother chose to…that is, we may not be able to identify her.”

  “I understand. I would appreciate any information you can find, Miss Ginny.”

  “I’ll do that as soon as I can. And as I say, I will speak with Mr. Ballister about having you declared legally independent. Give me your address. If I discover any relevant information, I’ll drop it by.”

  Michaels pulled a paper and pen from his pocket and printed out the address with laborious care.

  “We just moved,” Lily said, “and have a lovely new flat with plenty of room for a child.”

  “It’s in what’s beginning to be known as ‘steamie town’ to the human residents of the city,” Michaels said. “Some of the Irish Squad bought there, and now others have gravitated to the area also.”

  “Are there many automatons living on their own?” Ginny thought of her own four units refusing to leave the security of her house on Linwood.

  Michaels folded his arms. “Mostly just hybrids, for now, but they’re bringing more and more regular steam units along with them. They’ve been forced to buy some—those living in the worst circumstances—and have then liberated them. Others run away from their owners. They go into the underground or come to us. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “Ah. And, Mr. and Mrs. Michaels, may I ask your opinions as to what I should do about selling my interests in the hospital to the Automaton Liberation League? If I do sell to them, do you think it will cause a protest and even more ill feeling among the human population? The last thing I wish to do is add to the discord in the city.”

  Lily leaned toward her across the table. “You must follow your conscience. It is a special capacity possessed by humans. All my reading has told me so. The outcomes of many crises rely on the rule o
f conscience.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Ginny hadn’t spent much time following her conscience, even though her father—in his own generous and loving way—was a slave to his. Anything at any time had more or less been her means of operation. “Thank you, Mrs. Michaels, for being so generous and kind as to meet with me. I value your opinions, and I’ll take up no more of your time.”

  Lily was right; she, not they, needed to make these decisions.

  Rey Michaels stood up, drawing Lily with him. She wound her arm around his waist. Ginny rose also.

  “You won’t forget?” Lily asked. “To…liberate me?”

  “I’ll speak with Mr. Ballister about it just as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you again for meeting with me.” Ginny once more offered her hand. To her surprise, Lily left her husband’s side and stepped forward to embrace Ginny. She smelled sweet, and Ginny could feel the heat in her thorax.

  “Do not—as they say—be a stranger,” Lily bade.

  “I won’t.”

  They gathered themselves once more to start away, and on an impulse, Ginny begged Rey Michaels, in a whisper, “Take care of her.”

  Fierce brown eyes met hers. “You can bet your life on it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Another murder—the owner of one of the steam laundries this time.” Captain Addelforce tossed Brendan a look. “Word is the man was a real tyrant to his workers, most of which were steam units. Seems he used to hire humans exclusively but realized he could run the steam units round the clock and be as abusive to them as he chose.”

  “A real prince, eh?” Brendan knew he wasn’t expected to give his opinion of individuals with whom he came into contact, especially victims. But he hadn’t slept well the last few nights—ever since running into Ginny Landry at that tavern, in fact—and the last thing he needed was another grisly murder scene. “Who reported it?”

  “One of the human workers. Came running in here like a madwoman.” Addelforce flipped open the notebook that lay on his scarred desk. “Name of Ida Flude. Says when she got to work her employer, Mort Gressling, was lying across one of the steam presses with all the steam units gathered around him. He’d been…”

  “Pressed?”

  Addelforce shuddered. “The body’s being collected now. I want you to take someone down there and assess the scene. Interview the steamies, see if you can get them to talk.”

  Brendan wanted to ask, “Why me?” But a good cop never allowed himself to so much as think that question.

  Addelforce must have read his mind. “You’re my best man, Sergeant. I need you on this.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve just been in touch with Commissioner Messenberg. He’s had people besieging his office, demanding we put the automatons down. He thinks there’s going to be a riot if we don’t get to the bottom of these murders.”

  “Yes, sir. Any news, sir, about the arson at Miss Landry’s home?”

  “Someone claims to have seen a steam unit sneaking round back of the house. But since Miss Landry employs four steam units, it may have been one of hers. I’ve sent a man over to ask them further questions.”

  And why couldn’t he have got that assignment rather than the flattened corpse?

  He nodded. “Any of the Irish Squad on duty, sir? I’d like to take one with me. Sometimes the steamies open up better to them.”

  “Check the roster. I think Dempsey’s on.”

  “Will do.”

  He found Kevin Dempsey sweeping out the jail yard. A big man, like all Mason and Charles’ victims, he had sandy hair and mild brown eyes.

  “Murder scene, Kevin,” he said briefly. “Will you come?”

  “Anything for a fellow Irishman.”

  ****

  “Now that is an ugly scene and no mistake.” Dempsey spoke judiciously, and Brendan lifted his eyebrows at the staggering understatement. They’d arrived just as the coroner prepared to lift Gressling from the place where he’d died.

  “Never seen anything like it, myself,” said Ben Rail, the coroner. “To tell you the truth, Captain Addelforce said he’d be sending someone over. I waited so you could see.”

  Brendan blew out a breath. The pressing machine, monstrous in size, had been cranked open to reveal the body of a middle-aged man with graying hair. He might once have been overweight. Impossible to tell for sure, now.

  “Cause of death?” he asked, feeling foolish for asking.

  “I’ll need to determine the exact cause at my laboratory. You can see his sides burst when the machine clamped down on him. He’s also burned, but I doubt that killed him. All a matter of timing. If the machine came down fast, I’m sure his lungs ruptured. If it came down slowly…who knows?”

  “Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph,” Brendan whispered.

  Rail had the nerve to look amused. “You can see many of his organs have been pushed out the sides.” He pointed. “That’s his liver, what’s left of it.” He clasped Brendan on the shoulder. “You have a strong stomach, Sergeant. I don’t think many men could look at that and not lose their breakfast.”

  “Lucky for me I had no breakfast. Where’s the woman who reported the murder?” He pulled out his notebook and consulted the page. “Ida Flude?”

  “Here, Officer.” The woman, tinged decidedly green, scrambled up from the floor and came over.

  “Kevin, would you mind speaking to the steam units? See if you can find out what they saw.”

  “I will, sor.”

  Brendan drew Ida Flude aside, away from the pressing table, where Rail and his helper had begun the removal.

  “I understand, Miss Flude…”

  “It’s Mrs., though I’m a widow. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have spent the last eight years here.”

  “Mrs. Flude, I understand you found the body.”

  “Well, yes. When I got here this morning.” Her eyes flicked wildly. “But I wasn’t the first, was I?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean the steamies must have found him first, right?”

  “Do they usually arrive ahead of you?”

  “You don’t understand. They live here. Day and night. They have nowhere else to go. If Mr. Gressling had the orders, he made them work all night.”

  “I see.” Brendan thought furiously. “But you were the first human to arrive today.”

  “Yes.”

  “And no one was working?”

  “Well, that’s just it. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. That hardly ever happens here, with all the machines running. No,” she corrected herself, “the first thing I noticed was the smell.” Mrs. Flude wrinkled her nose. “I’d never smelled nothing like it. You can still catch a whiff now.”

  “Aye, I can smell…something.”

  She leaned closer. “Like seared pork. Bacon.”

  Brendan’s empty stomach turned over. He loved bacon. Had loved bacon.

  “Was the presser cold when you came in?”

  “You think I went close enough to tell? Went anywhere near that…that? It smelled hot in here, but it always smells hot in here.”

  “Well, what did you see?”

  “At first I just seen the steamies standing all in a circle, like, around…around the presser. They were in the way. I couldn’t see him. Then I came in a few steps, called out to one of them, ‘Hey, what’s going on here?’ And I saw…him.”

  “No question he was already dead when you came in?”

  Mrs. Flude choked.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I have to ask.”

  “He was…was like that. Some of my fellow workers…humans…came, and I made them stay outside.”

  “Good work.”

  “I asked some of the steamies what happened. What happened? None of them said anything.”

  Brendan stole a look at Kevin Dempsey, speaking steadily to one of the units.

  Mrs. Flude lowered her voice. “Do you think they killed him?”

  “No way to
say, ma’am.”

  “The thing is, I know them all. There’s not a bit of harm in any of them. And he treated them so badly.” Mrs. Flude’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Did he, ma’am? How so?”

  “Look at me—crying. But not for him. He was one mean son of a bitch, if you’ll excuse my language.”

  “Was he abusive to the units?”

  “He was abusive to all of us. Tell me, Officer, do you see so much as a stick of furniture in this place? A stool where a woman might sit down for one blessed minute? Sixteen hours a day I worked here—rain, shine, sick or well. And not an instant’s rest.

  “But Mr. Gressling had a special hatred for the steamies. Never left them alone and nothing they did was ever good enough. He denied them maintenance and then complained they were too slow. If they got injured—everyone got injured here—he battered them for it. I know they don’t feel pain, but…”

  Brendan glanced at Kevin again. “Mrs. Flude, did they mind? The steamies, I mean.”

  She gave him a thoughtful look. It was no ordinary question, and he guessed she tried to decide how much to say. “Well they’re stoical, aren’t they? Never say much. I think that’s what made it so awful. But yes, I think they did…mind. They’re not as unfeeling as people like to say.”

  “Do you think they—or any among them—had the ability to turn on their owner?”

  “I would have said no.” Again she lowered her voice. “But then there was them Ladies that turned on that doctor woman, wasn’t there? I’d have said ours were all gentle. But something very nasty happened here last night.”

  The coroner and his assistant had wrapped Mr. Gressling in a tarpaulin and shuffled him out the door. Brendan glanced at the gory presser and told Mrs. Flude, “Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

  “But, Officer, what will happen here? Will this place stay open?”

  “Not today.”

  “What am I to do for work?” She pressed a shaky hand to her mouth. “I’ll never make the rent.”

  With real sympathy, Brendan said, “I’m sure I don’t know. Try not to worry. Maybe someone will take this place over.”