Steam Dogs (12 page)

CHAPTER
22

The drizzle turned to steady rain by the time Simon and Arvel
reached the Steam Dog Tavern. The pub was crowded, with a great fire roaring in
the massive fireplace, reflected in flickering lights off the bits of brass
hardware and ships cleats bolted to the heavy beams which spanned the ceiling.

Simon was relieved to see that Welsie’s smile didn’t fade when she
saw him. She was carrying two steaming plates of food to a table at the front,
and her eyes sparkled with recognition. She nodded her head toward the last two
seats at the bar.

Simon placed the wire and tin model of the
Il Colibri
on the bar, and in spite of Arvel’s good-natured teasing,
waited anxiously for her to return.

When she did, he released the mechanism, and four of the tiny ship’s
propellers began to spin. “Oh Simon!” Her face lit up when she smiled. “How
positively charming.”

She leaned over and blew gently on the spinning propellers.

The tiny wire ship rose a few inches above the surface and hovered
a moment before dropping back down.

He stared at her. Good heavens, she really does have an affinity
for air! Maybe not a latent, but incredible all the same.

Arvel beamed his approval. “Where did you find this lovely young
woman?”

Simon rushed to make introductions. “Welsie Foine, this is my dearest
friend and brother, Captain Arvel Paretti.”

She extended her hand in greeting. “Captain, it’s a pleasure.”

“Please,” Arvel took her hand and kissed it. “Call me Arvel.”

She blushed and beamed, and that was that. And thank the gods of
luck Arvel instantly figured out everything, because he talked him up, boasting
of his aptitude with clockwork mechanicals. “Simon here created the first
clockwork propellers for our balloon act, which gave me the idea to design a
ship. We’ve been partners ever since.”

Arvel went on, regaling her with the history of their friendship, and
it sounded so good, Simon wished it were true.

“I was an orphan—adopted by the Zollo brothers Circus, same
as Simon. We were the same age, so my circus family took him into our caravan. We’ve
been brothers ever since. Simon started out with a juggling act, then became a
catcher on the trapeze for my sisters until I took over the hot air balloon,
and we developed an aerial act. I tell you, this man is
magnifico
! Why, he would dive--.”

“Enough, enough,” Simon said. “You’re boring her.”

“No, don't stop,” Welsie said, her eyes flashing. “I want to hear
it all.”

Simon couldn’t help but notice that along with Welsie, every
single person in the pub was listening as well.

“We were headliners. We really drew the crowds back then. But it
wasn't enough. We wanted more from life than Zollo could offer. Eventually, we
left the circus and made our way to Rome. We scrambled for money, took odd jobs
and did everything we could to raise the capital needed to build the
Il Colibri
.”

Arvel paused for a swallow of beer.

 
“Building even one
airship is very expensive,” Arvel continued. “Simon was the one who heard about
the air show. He’s the one who talked me into coming. We’re hoping to get the
funding for--.”

Simon heard a soft ‘woof’ from behind them.

He turned to see Vectis standing in the pub’s vestibule beside a
dark-haired gentleman with a handlebar moustache, picking at his teeth with a
silver toothpick.

“Hey it’s Vectis!” Simon patted his leg and called to the dog. “Come
here, fellow.”

Arvel whistled. The terrier licked his lips, but didn’t move.

Welsie rushed over to the little dog, and only then did he wag his
tail as she fawned over him, feeding him a bit of biscuit, cooing over him like
he was he baby.

Simon tried again. “Vectis!”

Welsie patted the pup on the head. “You are mistaken. This is Roman’s
dog. His name is Henry.”

“Like hell he is. That’s my dog. We’ve been searching for him
everywhere.”

The dark-haired gentleman harrumphed, and slipped the silver pick
into the breast pocket of his wool jacket.

Welsie appeared uncertain. “I think you’re mistaken. Simon, this
is Police Inspector Roman Greenslade. The dog belongs to him.”

Simon stiffened. He’d only just gotten back into her good graces,
he didn’t want to jeopardize his standing. Adrenaline surged through him as he locked
eyes with the Inspector—a dour, rigid-looking fellow. The man’s hard
stare bore right through him, as if to accuse him of lying.

Arvel put his hand on his arm. “Easy,” he whispered. “Let me handle
this.” He put his hand out to the police inspector.

“Nice to see you again, Inspector. I’m Captain Paretti. We met at
the hangar the other day.”

The inspector blinked first and grudgingly shook Arvel’s hand, but
it was entirely automatic. His expression had softened as Welsie picked up the
dog and snuggled him under her chin.

He’s absolutely besotted with her, thought Simon. The bloke wasn’t
paying attention to a word Arvel had to say—he’d scarcely taken his eyes
off her. Hard to miss, really. He watched Greenslade notice the way the
gaslight reflected off the stray wisps of coppery hair around her head,
creating a halo effect; and how his expression, even his body posture softened
whenever she came near him.

The room seemed of a sudden unbearably hot. Simon made a move
toward Welsie to take the dog, but Arvel’s grip on his arm tightened. “I beg
your pardon, but that
is
my friend’s dog.”

Greenslade seemed unperturbed. “I rather doubt that.”

Welsie put the dog down. The room had gone silent.

Simon squatted and called softly to Vectis. “Come on, boy. It’s,
me, remember?” The dog ignored him, and moved to stand beside the inspector’s
leg. He wouldn’t even look at him.
Of all
the--.

Arvel came to his rescue. “I think the dog may be confused,
Inspector. Just before we left the continent, a soldier friend of ours asked Simon
to take him. I’m afraid we had a bit of a rough flight across the channel, and
the dog got spooked. He disappeared right after we landed. We’ve been looking
for him ever since.”

“That’s right,” Simon agreed, even as he realized it was already
too late. Obviously the dog was not going to cooperate. He’d taken Vectis with
them when they’d left Belgium, never expecting to keep the dog for long. But he
was such a nice dog. The whole crew loved him. “Ask Figgsy, he’ll confirm our
story. When we heard about those wild dogs you’ve got running loose, we were
really worried. It’s a wonder he’s still alive.”

The ‘wild dog’ remark seemed to resonate with the other patrons,
as several nodded.

“Oh Simon.” Welsie stooped to rub the dog's ears. “Surely you can
see Henry clearly prefers the Inspector’s company. What kind of life is it for
a dog in an airship, anyway?”

Simon rubbed his jaw. She was asking him to do this thing
for her
. A favor. If she wanted the dog
for herself, he would have agreed in an instant, but the smug expression on
Greenslade’s face rankled. “But it’s
my
dog--.”

“Let it go,” Arvel cautioned.

Arvel was right. No reason to come to blows over something like
this but—
a man didn’t just give up
his dog!
 
Maybe Greenslade
reminded Vectis of his old life in Brussels. If policemen had a universal
smell
, then no doubt this puffed-up
patrolman suited the dog’s sensibilities better than he did. He could afford to
be gracious about it. And it would put him firmly back in Welsie’s good graces
again. Be the bigger man—even if it rankled.

Vectis wouldn’t even look at him.

“Very well. Because you asked, Welsie, and I could never think of
disappointing you, I will let him go the inspector on one condition. You and
your husband come out to the airfield tomorrow as our guests and allow us to
show you our ship.”

Greenslade’s triumphant expression took on a decidedly sour tone.

Good
.

Welsie’s hazel eyes shone with excitement. “Hamm won’t, but I’d
love to! Thank you Simon.”

She held up the wire model of the airship he’d given her. “Look Roman,
see what Simon made for me. Isn’t it the most charming bit of clockwork?” She
wound the mechanism and blew on it, just as she had before. The tiny crafted
hovered sweetly for a moment before she snatched it from the air.

“Probably not a good idea, girl.” Greenslade claimed the empty
stool at the bar next to Simon, the traitorous mutt sitting quiet at his feet. “I’ve
seen the ship these blokes came in on. It’s in rough shape. Certainly not safe,
I’d say.” He took a long swallow of the pint of ale she set in front of him and
sucked the foam from his moustache.

 
“And I couldn’t help
but notice how
small
the Italian ship
is, compared to the powerful German ship. And those Germans got rather impressive
weaponry, too. Now that’s a craft that would do the Queen’s air service proud,
I’d say. Even those French ships seem more ah, vigorous than that delicate
little ship of yours, gentlemen.”

Welsie frowned. Having won the round, Greenslade was looking to
win the war, too.

This time, it was Arvel who protested. “Do not be deceived by a
few scratches, Inspector. The
Il Colibri
is an advanced and unique design--the only ship in the world with the ability to
hover in place with pinpoint accuracy and load and disembark passengers without
landing. That cigar-shaped monstrosity the Germans have brought may have gun
turrets, but it is not an effective war machine…” Simon couldn’t quite suppress
his smile as Arvel regaled the entire bar for several minutes, on the
magnificence of the
Il Colibri’s
design and capabilities and the lack of maneuverability of the German ship. Gradually,
the other patrons tuned him out and went back to their business, and after a
while, even Welsie excused herself to dish up their dinner.

As soon as she left, Greenslade interrupted Arvel’s animated lecture.
“All right then,
Mister
Atters. I
know where Captain Paretti and his crew were last night, but where were you?
Where were you then the commotion at the air hangars occurred?”

Simon grinned. “Actually, I was right here, chatting up Mrs. Foine.
You can ask her, if you like.”

Seeing the color rise in Greenslade’s face felt so good; he
couldn’t resist twisting the knife a little. “Until well
after
closing, actually. I suppose you could say I helped her close
the place up for the night. She’s a fascinating woman; I’m afraid we quite lost
track of time. I didn’t get back to the ship until well after the dust-up. Arvel,
er, Captain Paretti here told me about it this morning, of course.”

From the way Greenslade was gripping his pint, Simon could tell he
didn’t like that one bit.

“I see. And what exactly is your purpose for being here, Atters?
You’re not one of the crew, so why are you here?”

Arvel clapped him cheerfully on the back. “Yes, Simon. What
exactly
is
your purpose? I’ve always
wanted to know that for myself.” Arvel always knew exactly what to say to
lighten a heavy mood.

Simon fiddled with the lapel of his jacket. “England is my home,
Inspector, just as it is yours. When Captain Paretti offered me passage back to
the land of my youth, I couldn’t pass up his offer. Although this Dog Island of
yours doesn’t compare favorably with the Isle of Wight, where I was raised,
there are some aspects of life here that I find quite fascinating. Who knows? Maybe
I’ll decide to stay for a while.”

Color rose in the policeman’s face. “If you know what’s good for
you, you’ll leave right now, Atters.” He kept his voice too low for anyone else
to hear, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable. “You’re not welcome here.
I know rabble when I see it. Get out. And don’t let me see you in here again,
else--.”

At that moment, Welsie came back through from the kitchen and
slipped a steaming plate piled high with shepherd’s pie in front of him, and another
for Arvel. The savory aroma of lamb and peas made Simon’s mouth water.

“All right then. That’s enough, gents.” Welsie must’ve felt the
tension in the air. “I won’t have you two making a go at it in here. Eat your
dinner. I’ll be back with yours in a moment, Roman. And a plate for Henry,
too.”

Simon tucked the serviette up under his chin, waiting until she
left to speak. “Else what, Inspector? Are you threatening me, sir? Methinks the
man is jealous, Arvel.”

“Shut up and eat,” muttered Arvel.

“Else I’ll have you locked up for vagrancy, if nothing else. You’re
up to something, Atters. I can smell it. If I dig deep enough, I’m sure I’ll
figure it out.”

Welsie returned with a heaping plate piled high for the inspector,
and a plate of scraps for the dog. Simon couldn’t help but notice she’d served
Greenslade a double portion of peas. She called the dog over and set down the
plate of orts; petting him while he cleaned the plate.