Free Moonlight & Mechanicals by Cindy Spencer Pape Page A

with discernment would be caught dead here.
    His first look at the servant who answered the door nearly confirmed that thought. The man was so emaciated it looked as if he’d died some years past and been propped in a closet full of mothballs. Honestly, he rather smelled of mothballs too. Liam concentrated on breathing through his mouth as he held up his identification in one hand and used the other to proffer his calling card. “I’m here to speak to a Miss Luscious on the subject of her assault last evening.”
    “Of course, Inspector.” The man moved aside with such creaky stiffness that Liam was afraid he’d fall over at any moment. His voice was little more than a rasp. “Right this way if you please.”
    Liam followed the butler through a hall covered in surprisingly clean flocked silk—the place had some income, clearly. The carpets on the polished wood floor were worn, but good. Near the back of the house, Liam entered a tidy and entirely businesslike office, where a middle-aged woman in a simple peach day dress and gold spectacles worked over a ledger with the help of a small Babbage accounting engine. Her plump, ringless fingers fairly flew over the keys. She paused and smiled politely as he approached. “ Merci , Alain . That will be all.”
    “As you wish, Madam.” The creaking butler made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him.
    “Madame Toussaint, I presume?” Liam made a small bow before the desk. “Inspector Liam McCullough. I’d like to speak with one of your ladies, if you don’t mind. You’re welcome to stay if that would make her more comfortable.”
    She studied him with keen eyes and must have seen something she approved of, for she gave a nod. The French accent vanished. “Good afternoon, Inspector. Have a seat.”
    When he did, she said, “No need to maintain formalities. Nettie Hawkins at your service. Madame Toussaint is a business.”
    “And Mrs. Hawkins is a business woman. I’ve no grief with that.” He held out his hand and shook hers. Yes, prostitution was illegal, but Liam wasn’t here to harass the madam or her employees. This house seemed cleaner than most—and it was a damn sight safer for all concerned than a darkened street corner. “I just want to know more about this automaton that attacked a young woman last night. I’m not here to cause any trouble.”
    “Good, then.” She pressed a small buzzer on her desk. “We’ll get Lolly down straight away. Can I get you coffee? Brandy? A drop of the Irish?”
    Before Liam could answer, the servant reappeared at the door. “Yes, madam?”
    “Thank you, Allen. Fetch Lolly, if you would, and…” She broke off and studied Liam again. “Coffee. For three, please.”
    Liam nodded. “Thank you. I prefer not to drink spirits during business hours.” Not that alcohol affected him much, but it was Yard policy. “Feel free, yourself, however. And Miss Luscious, if it makes her feel more comfortable talking to me.”
    A tap on the door several minutes later revealed the butler with an automated tea cart and a woman of perhaps twenty, though she looked older at the moment. Dark circles pooled beneath tired brown eyes. An ugly bruise bloomed across one cheek, another on her slim throat. A rumpled velvet dressing gown showed she hadn’t expected company this early. Long henna-reddened hair hung in a thick braid down her back and she hid behind the butler as he poured three cups of dark, rich coffee into delicate china cups. The robust aroma of the coffee overpowered the tang of cheap perfume.
    Liam stood and held the other chair for the woman. “Come in, miss. My name is Inspector McCullough, and I believe you can help me with an investigation.”
    “Inspector, meet Lolly Archer. Lolly, have a seat and drink some coffee. The inspector isn’t here to cause trouble.” Mrs. Hawkins removed her spectacles and accepted a cup before once again dismissing her servant.
    “Yes, madame. ” The girl had been