Grave Voices: A Storm and Fury Adventure by Gail Z. Martin & Larry N. Martin

Author:Gail Z. Martin & Larry N. Martin [Martin, Gail Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Storm and Fury Adventure
Publisher: DreamSpinner Communications
Published: 2016-01-16T23:00:00+00:00

Part Five: Bad Dolls and Clockwork Monsters

“Tell me again why we’re freezing our butts off down here by the riverfront?” Jacob muttered. Della grumbled in agreement, her face hidden by the fur ruff around the hood of her heavy coat.

“Because we got a tip that there were ‘monsters’ down along the docks,” Mitch returned under his breath.

“How good of a tip?” Jacob returned.

“Very good, I’d say.” Drostan Fletcher sauntered out of the shadows beneath the huge steel bridge over their heads. His Scottish burr was clear in his voice, and with his collar turned up on his Macintosh coat, he looked the part of a private investigator.

He chuckled at Jacob’s raised eyebrow. “Yes, Mitch brought me in for extra eyes,” Drostan said. “And the truth is, there have been stories for a couple of weeks now about strange people down by the river. Some people swear the drowned men of the rivers are returning home.”

Jacob repressed a shiver. Three rivers met at the triangle of land locals called ‘The Point’, the Allegheny River, the Monongahela River, and the Ohio River. Boats of all kind traveled these waters, including plenty of barges, steamboats, fishing vessels, and cargo ships. The swift waters and strong current made for sometimes dangerous navigation, and changes in depth meant navigating the dozens of wicket dams that helped keep ships from running aground. Sometimes, even experience and caution could not prevent tragedy. The river bottoms were littered with the wrecks of unlucky crafts, and their waters were the final resting place of their dead crewmen.

This stretch of river was between the big docks, and near the waterfront. The hulking steel skeletons of a passenger bridge and a railroad bridge shadowed the banks, making it nearly impossible for travelers to see what might be going on beneath them, even if they had cared to look.

“Smuggling?” Mitch asked, watching the riverbank for movement.

“Doubtful,” Della replied. “Smugglers have their pick of anywhere along the rivers to unload. They wouldn’t choose the busiest part of the waterway.”

“Isn’t this the stretch they call The Cemetery?” Jacob glanced up and down the river. Few boats were in sight this late, and the water looked black, its rippling surface barely reflecting the glow of streetlamps far above. “Because so many ships have sunk here over the years?”

“Yes it is,” Drostan said. “And that’s why we’re here. I’ve been working on a case for a shipping company that was having problems with thefts in this stretch. I found the ring of thieves and busted them, but along the way, I saw something else that seemed odd—men coming up out of the river late at night. I didn’t think too much about it until Mitch contacted me. Now, I have a suspicion what I saw might be connected to your case.”

“Shh!” Della warned. “Something’s going on near the water’s edge!” For tonight’s work, Della had forsaken her long skirts for bicycle bloomers, which her coat covered should anyone notice. She carried a rucksack with additional weapons and supplies over one shoulder, along with two pistols and a rifle in a back holster.

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