The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Menace

by Bec McMaster

  Byrnes laughed under his breath, an evil sound. “That sounds like something I would have done.” He looked impressed and clapped a hand on Garrett’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’re not such a hopeless case, after all.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NELLY’S FLAT was near Portman Square. It was a cosy little one-bedroom flat, and far more ordinary than Perry had expected. Nelly’s dressing room at the Veil was that of a theatre starlet; her home belonged to an entirely different woman indeed. The quilt on the bed was handmade, and much mended - as though it had been a treasured item - and dozens of poetry books and plays lay scattered around the sofas that sprawled through the main room.

  Morning light streamed through the lacy curtains. Perry ransacked the room, taking less care this time to disturb matters. Poor Nelly was dead - she wouldn’t care - and they needed to find information. Time was ticking out on them. Rommell had withdrawn the private commission that morning, considering the case to be solved.

  Lynch had given them two days to find something, or he was going to have to pull them from the case, and put them on something else.

  “Over my dead body,” Garrett had muttered, as they left to search the flat. Tension rode his hard frame, and it was clear he was still taking her assault personally.

  For the first time in days, they were working as one, the way they always had. It was both a relief and a frustration - like poking at a sore tooth. The argument had fallen behind them, but she still felt as though it chafed deep inside her. Her own raw feelings, threatening to dislodge this tentative peace.

  She had to keep them hidden away.

  “Found anything?” Garrett asked, poking his head into the bedroom.

  “Nothing.” She tossed aside a pair of pillows, running her hands under the mattress. “Anything from the neighbours?”

  “We’re in luck. Since our last visit, the lady next door asked her granddaughter if she’d seen anyone calling. The granddaughter was cleaning her grandmother’s windows one day when she said she saw Nelly meet a young man across the street. She’d never seen him before, but she noted that he handed Nelly a posy of peonies,” he emphasized the word with a waggle of his eyebrows, “and that she laughed, and tucked her arm in his, before they hopped on the omnibus. This was about three weeks ago.”

  “I wonder why Nelly was so secretive?” Perry mused. “Why meet him at the park? She’s an actress, so it’s not as though she has any great reputation to protect - and I mean that with all due respect.”

  “Interesting thought... You’re right. She’s acting as though she has something to hide.”

  “But from whom?” Something else occurred. “The granddaughter said he looked young? Hobbs was middle-aged. How old is the granddaughter?”

  “Almost twenty, perhaps.”

  “She’s not going to think Hobbs was young. Any other description?”

  “He was wearing a cap, so she couldn’t see his hair. Tall, somewhat lanky, wearing a tweed suit. It was too far away to get a good view, but she definitely recalls the incident. Remembers thinking to herself how lovely it was that Nelly had a beau. Nelly’s always been good to her grandmother, you see. Keeps an eye out.”

  And Miss Radcliffe had mentioned the card attached to the flowers Nelly had received, from someone named Nick or Mick, or something similar. What if they’d been wrong all along? What if Nelly had been seeing someone in secret? Someone they didn’t yet know about? “Let’s keep searching then.”

  Together, they turned toward the living areas. Several long fruitless minutes passed.

  A typeset play with dog-eared pages rested on the edge of the chair by the window, as if Nelly had been going through it the day before she disappeared. Little handwritten notes filled the margins. Perry had glanced at it before, and dismissed it after a brief glimpse, but now she flipped through it.

  ‘Oh, Ned, I love this line. It’s brilliant! And so naughty.’

  She was about to put the play down, when a name caught her eye.

  ‘You wicked man! I know exactly who this Edward Mayhue character is based on. It’s James to a T! All puffed up importance, and I-know-what’s-best! I wonder if Clarissa is going to turn out to be his secret sister, hmm?’

  Perry paused, her thumb ruffling the corners as she flicked through the pages. Another little scrawl caught her eye.

  ‘And now Clarissa meets the stable hand? I’m practically dying of laughter here. It’s brilliant! I wonder if James will even recognise it all when he sees it on stage? I wonder if Rommell will? Please tell me his pompous lordship meets a bad end instead of marrying poor Clarissa?’

  Perry flipped back to the start, and began reading. It seemed to be a comedy, in which the heroine, Clarissa Donovan, was pursued by the odious Lord Carthark, much to the disgust of her half-brother, Edward. Clarissa meanwhile, was in love with her brother’s stable hand, right beneath the noses of both Edward and Lord Carthark.

  The humour was considerably bawdy, and some of Clarissa’s antics made her eyebrows lift. It was the type of play Garrett would have loved.

  “What have you got there?” he asked, noticing her absorption.

  “I’m not entirely certain. I think it’s telling us something. I think Nelly did have a beau - this Ned. Come look!” She flipped back to the note about James. “I don’t think James was her beau, after all. I think he’s her brother.”

  It was the closest they’d come to finding any sort of background on Nelly. The woman was a mystery.

  “Ned,” he muttered. “There’s a stagehand named Ned, isn’t there?”

  “And two Edward’s. One’s an actor, the other works in costuming, and as an usher.” And what was the bet that the flowers Miss Radcliffe had seen that day, had been sent from a ‘Ned’?

  Garrett graced her with a smile. “Excellent. Time to go question some Ned’s then.”

  The first Ned was a handsome young usher who lifted his brows incredulously when they asked him if there had been any sort of relationship between he and Nelly.

  “Me and Nelly Tate?” He repeated, a flush of heat burning into his cheeks. “Cor, if I ‘ad been seein’ ‘er, you’d ‘ave known it. I’d be shoutin’ that from the rooftops. Blimey, to ‘ave ‘alf the luck!” Then his delight faded. “Or mebbe not. Lord Rommell wouldn’t ‘ave cared much for that.”

  “It’s definitely not him,” Garrett muttered under his breath as they went in search of Ned the stagehand. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to pen such an eloquent play.”

  “Interesting how he seemed afraid of Rommell,” Perry replied quietly.

  Their eyes met in silent understanding and he ushered her through the door to backstage, his hand firm on the small of her back.

  A couple of young men were working on shifting some of the props. Two of them were laughing, but the third just looked exhausted, dark circles shadowing his eyes, and his cheeks sunken with gauntness.

  The second Perry saw him, she hesitated. “That man asked me if there’d been any news on Nelly the other day. I didn’t think anything of it.”

  Garrett reassessed the fellow. He was tall and lean, with gingery hair. Hardly the sort of chap to steal a young actress of Nelly’s caliber, but then one never did know when it came to women.

  “Edward Barham?” Garrett called, reviewing the list of names that Fotherham had given him.

  The weary-looking fellow looked up. The second he saw them, he paled, then turned and bolted through the door.

  “It’s him!” Perry snapped, after a shocked moment of hesitation.

  They thundered after him.

  Barham led them a merry chase through the wings, and across the stage. He leapt down into the orchestra pit, and scrambled up into the seating.

  Perry followed, the long flap of her leather jacket flaring out around her like wings as she leapt. Garrett made as if to follow but something caught his eye; a shadow moving above, in the flies.

  What the–?

  He saw the glint of light
reflect back off metal, and realization dealt him a swift blow to the gut.

  “Look out!” he roared, leaping off the stage, and going after her.

  Perry’s feet skidded to a halt, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. It was the only thing that saved her life.

  A shot rang out, sparks ringing off the metal ladder nearby. It missed Perry by an inch. Garrett slammed into her, carrying her to the floor, and rolling his body between them. The world faded to red as the hunger roared through his veins, fury bringing with it a wave of murderous intent. His sight grew clearer, the world snapping into sharp relief as the predator within him roused.

  “Son of a bitch!” Perry looked up in shock toward the flies, “Did someone just–”

  Yes. His blood ran cold. “Stay down.”

  Garrett rolled her out of the way, shoving her behind a seat. He drew his own pistol, looking up. The shadow moved, running along the metal frame. “Looks like my ploy worked.” He just hadn’t expected an attempt to be made against Perry, and that pissed him off. He should have.

  Perry craned her neck, focusing on the door that was still flapping from Ned Barham’s exit. “Bloody hell.”

  “Go.” He gave her a shove. “Hunt Barham down. I’ll take care of this.” It was the safest option.

  “No!” Her eyes blazed, and he knew she was thinking about what had happened the last time they’d separated.

  “I’m not going to get shot.” Garrett could just make out the edge of the shadow, vanishing into the darkness of the wings. He needed to move and now, if he wanted any chance at catching the bastard. “We need to know why Barham’s running,” he reminded her. “We need to confirm our suspicions about Nelly and Hobbs.”

  Perry wavered. She slid her aural communicator into her ear and hooked it there, “Keep in contact with me.” Both wrist-pistols slipped into her palms, and her fingers clenched around them. “And watch your back. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Always.” Garrett’s gaze returned to the wings, tracking their assailant, and he darted forward, using the edge of the stage to cover himself.

  Ned Barham had a good start on her, but that didn’t mean much. Perry could pick up hints and traces of his scent as she ran, and it was soon clear that he was using the theatre’s secret passages to avoid her. Not running so much now, as gone to ground.

  She tracked him to the seamstress’ department and entered warily, her double wrist pistols in her hands, just in case someone else tried to take a shot at her.

  Dust motes circled through the golden patch of sunlight that streamed into the room through the windows. One foot crossing over the other, Perry crept forward, circling a wire fashion mannequin. Racks of clothing provided the perfect hiding place, and she heard a swift intake of breath as she stepped into the patch of sunlight.

  “Edward, I have no intention of hurting you. We just wanted to talk about Nelly.”

  Silence, filled only by two racing heartbeats; hers and one other.

  Perry cocked her head. He was in the far corner, behind a row of dresses. Perry held her hands up, flipping her pistols back into their wrist sheaths. Then she held her hands up in the air. “We know you were courting Nelly. We suspect that Nelly is James Hobbs’ sister, but we need confirmation of this.” She took a step forward. “Edward? Please come out. I know you’re there.”

  No sign of movement, but she heard a muffled sob. Perry stepped forward, and jerked a chartreuse gown out of the way. Edward cowered behind it.

  “I didn’t do it! I d-didn’t do it!” Red seared his pale cheeks, and his eyes were wet with tears. His hands shook as he held them up.

  “I know,” she said, in a soothing voice. “We know you had nothing to do with Nelly’s death. Come out, please.”

  His breath caught on a sob. Perry stepped closer, sliding one hand over his shaking shoulder, and kneeling as he burst into tears. “Why did you run?”

  He shook his head, trying to reign his emotions in. “I don’t... k-know... I just saw y-you and ran. I didn’t know w-what to think, w-what to do... She’s gone.” He looked up, face stained with agony. “She’s truly gone, and she’s n-never coming back, is she?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Perry’s whisper roughened. “The funeral arrangements are being made for this week.”

  At that Edward burst into a fresh round of sobbing. Perry patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but we truly do need to know what happened. I want to catch whoever did this, and make him pay his dues. Were you courting Nelly in secret? Did her brother not approve?”

  The whole story spilled out in bits and pieces; Edward - or Ned’s - shy friendship with the young actress, slowly turning to something more. He’d never expected Nelly to ever return his feelings, and they often walked in the park before rehearsal to get away from the mayhem of the theatre. Nelly had begun to confide in him about her difficult upbringing with a mother who didn’t approve of her desires for a theatre life. The young Eleanor Hobbs had run away to London to join the theatre, and her older half-brother James, who she knew little of.

  “James encouraged her to take another name to protect his business, when it became apparent she intended to be an actress - with or without his help. James adored her, but he made his feelings on her lifestyle clear. He wanted her to marry and settle down - just not with me.” Ned’s eyes were glazed with exhaustion, his tears drying and chapping his cheeks. “He knew I belonged in the theatre, and he wanted to remove her from its temptations. And then, of course, there was Rommell, and Beckham, and a half dozen others who thought they could buy her... So we kept our... our engagement a secret.”

  “You were engaged?”

  Ned nodded miserably, and reached inside his collar to withdraw a small golden band on a strip of leather around his throat. “I was keeping it safe for her, for when we could finally announce our intentions to the world. I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he whispered, his heart breaking in his eyes. “Nelly believed in me. She believed that I could do anything, that I could become more than... than just a stagehand. I loved her so much.”

  The poor bastard. She had to get going - Garrett was alone with a murderer -but sympathy kept her there for a few moments longer... “Then do what she wanted you to do. Publish the play. It’s quite good, actually. I read the little notes she’d been making - that’s how we knew to track you down.”

  Ned stared at her blankly, then resolve started to come into his eyes. “She’d have wanted that.”

  Perry straightened, and helped drag Ned to his feet. “Do you have any idea who might have wished her ill?”

  That changed his demeanour. “It’s the only reason I’ve been able to come back to work,” he confessed. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll see or hear something. Maybe I could find them.”

  “You don’t think the clockwork menace had anything to do with it? Everyone else seems to.”

  “Lovecraft would never have hurt her!” Ned looked up guiltily. “I met him once, see. When James first threw me out of his shop – and Nelly often spoke of him.”

  “Lovecraft?” she suggested, to keep him focused.

  “He adored Nelly. She was his ‘aunt’. The poor blighter wouldn’t have hurt a fly, and definitely not Nelly. James took him in, but Nelly... She always made an effort to look out for the less fortunate, you know? She made him feel like he belonged, like there was nothing wrong with him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Perry said again, uselessly.

  Ned looked like he’d been disemboweled by grief. There was as much life left in him as the fashion mannequin.

  “I have to go,” she said. The tick of time seemed to fire blood through her veins. Where was Garrett? Was he all right? Had she taken too long? But first– “I promise you that we shall do everything in our power to bring whoever did this to justice.”

  It wasn’t much, not with Ned’s entire life torn apart. But it was the only thing she could offer him.

  A bark of sound
echoed in the distance, so quietly that she almost missed it. Perry cocked her head, and cut Ned off as he opened his mouth to say something. A second echo followed. The moment she recognised it, she had no thought left for either Ned or Nelly.

  That had sounded like pistol fire.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GARRETT POUNDED through the backstage, following the shadowy figure ahead. It was a circular chase, almost as though the bastard was leading him somewhere. He crashed through a door and–

  Something moved in the corner of his vision.

  A weapon discharged with a flash of light, and the second before the bullet hit him, he had the thought - bloody hell, there are two of them–

  Heat and fire slammed into Garrett’s shoulder. It felt like a punch and he staggered back into the wall, the scent of blood igniting all of the darker urges within him. The room swam, full of shadows as he tried to get his feet underneath him.

  A trap. A bloody trap.

  He had to get out of here. Clapping a hand to his shoulder, Garrett forced his suddenly-heavy legs to drive him behind a prop. Another bullet bit into the wall where he’d been standing, and a cold sweat sprang up along his spine. Someone was trying to kill him, and if he didn’t pull himself together, they’d succeed.

  Where was Perry? Why the hell had he sent her away? Stubborn, bloody pride, that was why, driving him to protect her. Now he was the one who needed help.

  Would she even hear the shot?

  His right leg gave out, and Garrett went down to his knee, pain tearing through his shoulder, and his pistol skittering from nerveless fingers. His vision blurred. The pistol came to a halt several feet away.

  How badly was he bleeding? Through the shadowed haze that filled his vision, he could just make out his right hand, slippery with darkened blood. His blood.