Free The Aunt Paradox (Reeves & Worcester Steampunk Mysteries) by Chris Dolley

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    “Reeves?”
    “As Mr Wells’ machine appears to be staying with us a little longer, sir, I thought the spare bedroom would make a better home for it. It does take up a lot of room, and if I am to prepare luncheon...”
    Once the time machine was parked to Reeves’s satisfaction, I headed straight to the shelves for Who’s Who , leaving Reeves to oil off into the kitchen to prepare lunch.
    I tried Henry Molesworth first. And there he was, a man of the correct vintage, and he was still alive.
    I took the book through to Reeves.
    “I say, Reeves. Shouldn’t these chaps be dead?”
    “One would expect them to be missing , sir. Presumed dead perhaps but, as their bodies won’t appear for another two days, they would not have had a burial in the 1850s.”
    My gin levels were in need of topping up.
    “So this Henry Molesworth must be the wrong Molesworth. It says here he married a second wife in 1889.”
    “Possibly, sir. There is also the possibility that Mr Molesworth’s murder has not yet taken place.”
    “Explain, Reeves.”
    “We know that five bodies are discovered in this flat on Wednesday morning, sir. What we do not know is whether that timeline is the timeline we are currently residing in.”
    By this time I wasn’t sure which timeline I was residing in. We’d changed it so often.
    “Do timelines wear out, Reeves?”
    “Pardon, sir?”
    “All this changing back and forth. Must be wearing, don’t you think? Could we wear it out?”
    “No, sir. Have you located any of the other deceased?”
    I tried Algernon Throgmorton-Undershaft next. Wouldn’t be many of them. And I was right. There wasn’t any of them. There was a Cornelius and a Hildebrand, but as for Algernons — not a sausage.
    Somewhat dispirited I moved on to Jasper Evershot, the man we’d stowed in the bath. I found three, but only one was of the right age. I read a little further ... and there it was — disappeared mysteriously in 1855, believed drowned .
    I showed Reeves. “You don’t think he drowned in our bath, do you, Reeves?”
    “No, sir. If you remember, he was shot. The Who’s Who entry is interesting though as it shows that Mr Evershot’s departure was not regarded at the time as suspicious. That would appear to confirm that our time travelling nemesis is indeed killing these gentlemen rather than collecting murder victims from the past.”
    I tried the last name — Percy Baekeland — and drew a blank. Not a single Baekeland in the book.
    “I still can’t see a link between the five victims, Reeves. They’re not related. They’re not best chums. Some of them aren’t even in Who’s Who , so they can’t all be well-heeled.”
    “It is indeed a mystery, sir.”
    It was still a mystery half an hour later. I’d polished off a quarter of a salmon and sampled a rather fine Hock, but even that hadn’t been enough to inspire my little grey cells into action.
    Then there was a knock at the door, followed by several knocks in rapid succession. I looked at Reeves and could tell he was thinking the same as me. The rozzers! I ran for the sofa and peered behind it. I was relieved to see nothing there.
    The knocking started up again. “I say, is anyone at home?” came a muffled voice. It didn’t sound like a policeman.
    Reeves walked over to the door and opened it.
    And in burst HG Wells!
    “Thank God, you’re here,” said HG, rushing towards me. “I don’t know who else to turn to. You are Reginald Worcester, aren’t you? The gentleman’s consulting detective?”

Nine
    ’d never experienced deja vu before. It was most unsettling. Had we broken the timeline and made it wrap around itself?
    “I’m HG Wells. But please call me Bertie. Everyone does. You may have heard of my time machine.”
    “In passing,” I said.
    “Well, it’s real, and someone’s stolen it! I have no idea how. I keep it in a locked room. There’s no other way in or out, and the only key has never left my possession!”
    Reeves