Iron and Blood by Gail Z. Martin

Author:Gail Z. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

“IS HE STILL out there?” Cady McDaniel asked as Nicki peered at the street from behind the velvet curtain in the parlor. “If we open the window, I can get him with the rifle.”

“Pish posh,” Nicki said. “If he were a little closer, I could probably get him with my derringer.”

“No one is ‘getting’ anyone out my parlor window,” Catherine Desmet said archly, although the hint of a smile softened her remonstrance.

“How about out of one of the bedroom windows, Aunt Catherine? The angle would be better from up there.”

“Nicki—”

“You never let me have any fun!” Nicki said, stamping her foot.

“What if we sent one of the servants out with cookies—made with castor oil,” Cady suggested.

“Heavens, no!” Catherine objected. “I won’t have our cook’s baking maligned.”

“It was just an idea,” Cady replied.

“Who do you think he is?” Nicki asked.

“A spy?” Cady suggested. “Sent here from a secretive foreign power—”

“I’d believe that, if he were dressed better,” Nicki said, still hiding behind the curtain. “The overcoat doesn’t fit well, and the hat is too big.”

“What’s the point of a disguise if you still look natty?” Cady asked, looking up from her stack of shipping rosters.

“I always look natty when I’m disguised,” Nicki sniffed.

“Girls! A bit more attention to the matter at hand, please!” Catherine reproved, although her eyes were livelier than they had been since Thomas’s death. Nicki smiled to herself, glad to have lightened Catherine’s grief, if only for a moment or two.

Catherine sat with a stack of Thomas Desmet’s journals and a well-used linen handkerchief. As she worked her way through her husband’s day books, she alternated between sad smiles and dabbing tears from her eyes.

Cady applied her organizational skills to the records of Brand and Desmet’s recent orders—both the ones on the official books, and the ones on the ‘private’ roster. Rick and George had already narrowed down the shipping receipts, manifests, and other paperwork, then turned the shortlist of missing or unusual shipments over to Cady for a second look, and to cross-check against the list Jake had found in Thomas’s airship cabin. Her code-breaking talents came in handy as well, deciphering some of the cryptic notations. Meanwhile, Nicki put her knowledge of languages to good use working through correspondence, since Thomas Desmet’s clientele came from all around the world.

Hours had passed, and they had found nothing to reveal a clue to Thomas’s murder.

Just then, there was a sharp rap on the front door. The three women exchanged glances. Cady’s hand strayed toward the Winchester rifle beneath the desk.

“I’ll get the door,” Nicki volunteered. “Keep an eye on our gentleman out front,” she instructed Cady.

The housekeeper went to the door with a silver tray to receive calling cards. “Desmet residence, whom may I say is calling?” she asked archly. Nicki lurked in the shadows at the entrance to the hallway.

“I’m here to give my condolences to Mrs. Desmet,” a man said. “I was an associate of her late husband’s.”

“I’ll handle this,” Nicki said, with a half-smile and a nod to the housekeeper.

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