Moonlight & Mechanicals (4 page)

Mrs. Miller bit her lip. “But the shop…”

“Can close for a few hours.” Wink would buy a couple pounds of tea for the Hadrian household. Maybe even some extra as gifts. That should make up for any lost income. “I want you to meet a friend of my family who works for Scotland Yard.” Liam should be able to find out if any bodies matching Eamon’s description had been found in the last two days.

“A constable?” Mrs. Miller’s eyes flew wide. “They don’t usually bother much with the likes of me, ducks.”

“An inspector,” Wink corrected. “And this one will take the time. I promise.”

“Well, then. I suppose I should fetch my hat. Just see those last customers out the door, will you?” Her double chins jiggled as she nodded, showing the most life she had since Wink walked in. “I imagine you can still take care of a sale if you must.”

Wink suppressed a chuckle. If her society acquaintances could see her now, they’d be horrified. “I’m sure I can, ma’am.” She marched out into the shop and politely told the only lingering customers—the lovebirds—hat the business was closing for a few hours and they needed to go.

She packaged up a variety of teas and paid for them by the time Mrs. Miller returned. The older woman wore a relatively hideous pink bonnet, with a turquoise paisley shawl—a gift from Tom—over her purple gown. Wink said nothing. Nell, who was far more knowledgeable about fashion than Wink, had tried buying Mrs. Miller a new bonnet once. The woman had thanked her kindly, and then added a bouquet of clashing paper flowers to the tasteful dark silk. Refusing to be ashamed of her friend, Wink took the older woman’s arm and escorted her to the waiting carriage.

Once they reached Scotland Yard, Wink glared down her nose at the officer guarding the entry when he tried to turn them away. “Tell Inspector McCullough that Miss Hadrian is here to see him, or my father, Lord Northland, will be most displeased.”

The young officer blanched. Wink’s father was well-respected and occasionally feared around the Yard. “Right away, miss.” He pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the microphone. “A Miss Hadrian to see you, Inspector.”

Moments later, Liam strode down the hall toward them. “What in blazes are
you
doing here?”

“Pleased to see you too, I’m sure.” Wink crossed her arms over her chest and tapped one booted toe, tipping her head toward her companion. Her voice softened. “This is Mrs. Miller. She runs a tea shop in Wapping. You may have heard of it. We have something we’d like to discuss—in private, if you don’t mind.”

He blinked, but his frown smoothed into a polite, professional smile. He shook Mrs. Miller’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard a great deal about you, all of it good. If you’ll follow me?”

He took Mrs. Miller’s arm and left Wink to follow as he led them down the corridor to a small room, boasting nothing more than a steel table and four plain wooden chairs. “My office is too small to hold the three of us.” He held a chair first for Mrs. Miller and then for Wink. “I hope this will do?”

“It’s fine.” Wink laid her hand on top of Mrs. Miller’s on the table. “Now tell him what you told me about Eamon.”

“Who’s Eamon?” Liam used a pencil to write the name on a small notepad he’d pulled from his pocket.

“First mate Eamon Miller, of the schooner the
Susan Jane.
My son.” Under Liam’s careful questioning, Mrs. Miller explained everything she’d told Wink, as well as giving a detailed description of her son the last time she’d seen him. She handed over an inexpensive photograph with a frown. “I’ll get this back, won’t I?”

“Of course.” Liam studied the portrait, his full lips drawn thin. “I’m not sure there’s too much I can do to help. It’s possible he stopped off to visit a friend, or is simply drinking away his pay with some shipmates.”

“My Eamon isn’t like that.” Mrs. Miller drew herself up to her full height of perhaps five feet. “Sure, he likes a drop now and then. What good Irish lad doesn’t? But he wouldn’t disappear like this. I told Winnie you wouldn’t be able to help.”

Winnie?
Liam mouthed the name with a suspicious twitch to his lips.

Wink glared. He’d better not even think about using that name. Ever. “I thought perhaps you could check the hospitals and so forth—see if anyone unidentified has been admitted matching Eamon’s description.”
And the morgue and the prisons.

“Absolutely,” Liam said. A slight tip of his head seemed to indicate he’d thought of those other places as well. “I can take some time this afternoon and handle it personally.”

“But you’re an inspector.” Mrs. Miller pulled an oversized handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Surely you don’t have time for the likes of me.”

“You let me worry about that.” Liam’s wince told Wink that he didn’t. Not really. Yet he’d do it anyway, as a favor to her father and her family—and to help an old woman sleep at night. Was it any wonder she’d been half in love with him for almost a decade?

“Bless you.” Mrs. Miller burst into tears against Wink’s shoulder. “Such a kind young man, for a copper at that.” She mopped her face with her handkerchief and gave Wink a none-too-subtle elbow to the ribs. “Irish no less. And so handsome too, isn’t he, Winnie?”

“Inspector McCullough is indeed a kind man,” Wink said. “And he’s certainly Irish.” That he was handsome went without saying. No need to swell the man’s head.

“Why don’t I escort you home, Mrs. Miller? That way I can see the neighborhood, get a feel for the route your son might have taken.”

“We came in my coach,” Wink said. “But you’re welcome to come with us, of course.” It would give her a chance to talk to Liam after they returned Mrs. Miller to the shop.

* * *

Ten minutes later a very mismatched trio found themselves in the Hadrian carriage on the way back to Wapping. Liam studied the two women sitting across from him. Even in her work clothes, Wink displayed the easy confidence of someone comfortable with her place in the world. She was at the same time the scientist and the lady, with just a hint of fire simmering below the surface—the spark that had given her the strength to survive a childhood fighting vampyres and human predators.

Her care for the shop owner who had sheltered her did nothing to diminish her in his estimation, though some in society wouldn’t approve. For many charity was fine, so long as it was handled at distance. A lady wasn’t supposed to soil her own hands helping others, though Wink and others of her generation who’d gone to university and become professionals were starting to change that.

Mrs. Miller, in her garish second-hand dress and horrid bonnet, was very much a sterling example of Britain’s lower working class. Though living in one of London’s worst neighborhoods, she owned a successful business, had apparently raised a son to a productive adulthood out of the slums, and had more or less taken in a pack of orphaned children. While many at the Yard wouldn’t have bothered helping her find her son, a grown man and a sailor, Merrick Hadrian felt a debt to the woman, and as a friend, Liam was honor-bound to share in that obligation.

Once they reached Wapping, Liam rapped on the roof of the coach. When the vehicle stopped, Liam got out and climbed onto the box with Debbins, the driver. From this vantage point, he could study the area and get a feel for the streets and alleyways. He’d been posted here as a constable, but that was years ago. Shops and even buildings had come and gone. The stench of the river, horses and human waste that he remembered was masked somewhat by the thick miasma of coal smoke that now cloaked London as a whole. Liam pulled on the filter mask Debbins handed him. His lupine sense of smell wouldn’t be an asset in this part of the investigation, so there was no point in subjecting himself to the stench or in damaging his lungs. While his body would heal itself as soon as he shifted, he wasn’t sure when that would be. Furthermore, the mask was camouflage, allowing him to look more like any other inspector.

After depositing Mrs. Miller back at her tea shop, Liam asked Wink what route the son was most likely to have used walking home from his ship. His notebook already contained the name of the ship, which dock she was in and the identity of the captain.

“I think he’d have stopped at the pub first, to tell you the truth. He’d’ve enjoyed a pint with his mates, maybe a hand or two of cards and then come to see his mum. I’ve only met him a couple times, mind. He was grown and off to sea before I lived above the shop, but he seemed an all right sort. Never chased the neighborhood girls, which some did even though they were married. I don’t think he’d pass the pub without stopping in for a quick one, though.”

“And I suppose you’ve no idea which pub was his usual?” He gave the coachman directions to take them past the docks on the way back to Hadrian House. Then he helped her up and climbed in behind her.

Wink shook her head. “There are several by the wharf. It could be any of those, but I’d think his shipmates would know.”

George, Wink’s mechanical dog, nudged Liam’s hand. If he didn’t know it was impossible, he’d swear the beast was fond of him. Did even clockwork dogs recognize wolves as kin? Given the brilliance of the woman who’d built George, Liam truly had no idea. He simply patted the bronze head out of habit while George leaned into Liam’s knee.

They didn’t speak much during the drive to the docks, as Liam was busy examining the neighborhood, noting the changes since he’d last worked in the area. Once he’d satisfied himself that any further investigation would have to be done on foot, he used the speaking tube to ask the driver to return them to Hadrian House, just a block or so off of St. James’s Square. When Wink corrected him, he changed the instructions to the Camelot Club, headquarters of the Order, which masqueraded as a posh gentleman’s club.

Liam leaned back against the squabs. “I’ll do what I can. You know that, I hope. But there are so many ways for a man to vanish in London—there’s a good possibility we won’t find him.”

“I know.” She gave him a brief, sad smile. “But the fact that you’re even looking—that means the world to Mrs. Miller. And she means a great deal to me. So thank you.”

“Is it hard, coming back to Wapping?” He studied her face, which was schooled into a politely neutral expression. “I should think most of the memories are unpleasant.”

“Most,” she agreed. “But there are good people here too. I have fond memories of some, Mrs. Miller and the laundress next door most especially. After Tom found me, and we eventually took in Jamie, then Nell and Piers, things got better. We became a family.”

A vampyre-hunting family, at that.
His lips twitched. As a werewolf, he had no grounds for finding that odd. “What drove a handful of children to spend their nights fighting the undead? I’ve always wondered about that. I was there that night, with Inspector Dugan, when Merrick found you, you know. I know what you fought at that warehouse.”

“I know. I saw you wink at me. As to why? Well, Tom had something of an instinct for it, of course.” A hereditary one, it had turned out. “We don’t speak of it much, but not all of us made it out of Wapping. There was another girl who lived with us for a while, a little older than me and even sweeter and more timid than Nell. Her name was Janie. She was killed coming home one night by a vampyre. After that, we trained with Tom and with Clive Perkins, the bartender at the Wigged Pig, who used to be in the army. We were determined to keep the undead away from any more of our friends.”

“And by working with the Order, you still fight that fight—though not so often with a sword these days.” He remained in awe of the pluck and determination she’d shown, even as a child, even when she was kidnapped. “I expect one day you’ll marry one of the Knights, and continue your work behind the scenes.”

“Perhaps at some point in the future, perhaps not.” Wink shrugged. “I still feel like a fraud in society, you know. I’m not sure it would be fair to inflict my insecurities—and my peculiarities—on some steady young gentleman. I’m an engineer and a damned good one, but I’ve no idea how to manage a household or arrange a dinner party. Do you know the rest of my history—before Wapping, I mean?”

Liam shook his head. He’d wondered of course. Of all the children the Hadrians had adopted, only Wink had clearly had some formal education, somewhere in her past.

“Father—my natural father, that is—was the son of a well-to-do greengrocer. He was an inventor, a brilliant one, and I think he made good money at it. Then one day, he fell in love with a squire’s daughter.” She paused as if struggling to remember all the details. She wore brown today, so her eyes were a soft shade of amber. If he looked closer, he knew, the vivid green flecks would be there, banked like warm coals.

“I take it a happy ending didn’t ensue?” He smiled, wanting her to continue.

Wink took a breath. “At first they were happy, despite their problems. They eloped, and my mother was cut off entirely. The squire—and yes, he’s dead now, Papa Merrick checked—blackened my father’s name everywhere in England. No one would hire him or fund his inventions.”

“Bastard,” Liam muttered.

“Agreed.” She nodded. “So they traveled around the Continent. After I was born, my mother taught me languages and history, and all the ladylike skills she could, while my father tutored me in science and mathematics. Mostly he taught me about machines.”

“For which you had a gift.” Liam wasn’t complimenting her, just stating a fact. “It must have been a difficult life for a child, with no real home.”

“Not really. I don’t remember being unhappy, not then. I loved seeing new places and I had the most caring family a girl could ask for.” She sighed. “When I was seven, everything changed. Mother caught consumption. Father tried every doctor he could find, did everything he could, but she died a year later.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He’d lost his own mother at a similar age—something he hadn’t known they had in common.

“When she died, it was as if something inside Father broke. He never mistreated me, but if he forgot to eat, well, he forgot to feed me too. He brought her ashes back to England. By then, there was no money left, so we ended up in Wapping, with him repairing laundry machines and the like, when he remembered to work at all. More often than not, it was me who did the work. When he died, I just kept on doing it.”