The Clockwork Scarab (Stoker & Holmes 1)

Small fingerprints just above the knee and a swipe of dried milk on the front of his trousers-toddler in the household.

The faint shift of gears and quiet rumble-mechanized left leg, overdue for oiling.

"Miss Adler." Luckworth's voice was less friendly than hers had been. "Who are these girls? And what are they doing here at this time of night? What are you doing here at this hour? And how did that happen?" He gestured to the rubble that had once been the stone satyr.

Miss Stoker and I exchanged glances at his remark, which made it sound as if we were schoolchildren.

"I've been engaged by the museum to catalog its unorganized antiquities acquired over the last three decades, Inspector," Miss Adler replied. "I'm certain you are aware of that."

"Yes, and I still find it inconceivable that the director selected you to do so."

"Unfortunately, that opinion is not relevant to our current tragedy," Miss Adler pointed out with a cool smile.

The younger inspector, who couldn't have been more than a few years older than I, rose from his examination of the girl's body. "Right. Regardless, madam, that doesn't explain your presence here at"-he paused to flip open an elaborate pocket watch that had four small folding doors and, once open, rose into a complicated three-dimensional timepiece arrayed with buttons-"twelve forty-three in the morning." He pushed a button and the clock folded back into place with soft, pleasant clicks.

Miss Adler's smile turned gentle. "But of course it does. There is no limitation on my work schedule. Sir Franks has given me access to the museum at any and all hours of the day. You of all people, Inspector . . . ?"

"Grayling," the young man replied. "Ambrose Grayling."

"Inspector Grayling, you and your colleague should well understand that there are certain occupations which are not regimented. One works whenever one must. Even in the dead of night." She made a smooth gesture with her hand. "Perhaps we could quibble about my employment restrictions later. I rang Scotland Yard because we have a crime to investigate, and I'm certain the two of you would like to get to work before more time has passed."

"We have a crime to investigate?" said Luckworth. He laughed. "Miss Adler, there is no 'we' about it. You and your companions will give your statements and leave the investigation to us."

"But I beg to differ, Inspector-with all due respect," Miss Adler added in a sugar-coated voice, "we have already begun the investigation."

I took this as my cue to step forward. "I have already begun a preliminary examination of the body. If you wish, I shall enlighten you with my conclusion-"

"Pardon me," said Inspector Grayling in a flat voice that carried a bit of the Scottish. It was no surprise, for it matched the dark copper color of his thick, curling hair.

I turned my full attention on him, aware that he was a rather attractive young man. He had a freckled complexion over tanned skin; however, the freckles did nothing to make him look boyish or innocent. Instead they gave a pleasantly ruddy cast to his square jaw and prominent nose.

Unevenly stubbled chin and tiny cut near left ear-needs to sharpen his razor and is impatient in character.

Cuts and scrapes as well as a large blister adorned his left, pencil-holding digit-doesn't wear gloves, works hard but not without haste and clumsiness.

No wedding ring and one button dangling from jacket cuff-unmarried and lives in a household without females.

Jacket cuffs frayed, short for his elegant wrists, two years out of style-handed down clothing, not of upper class.

Ornate, complicated pocket watch but wears used clothing-an utter cognoggin; more concerned with his gadgets and devices than personal appearance.

Grayling was saying, "This is no concern for a civilian. Now, if you-"

"Inspector Luckworth and Inspector Grayling," interrupted Miss Adler, "may I introduce Miss Mina Holmes?"

Both of the gentlemen turned to me, and if I weren't so shocked at being back in the spotlight, I might have found their expressions comical. Luckworth looked as if he'd swallowed a biscuit whole, and Grayling lifted his Scottish nose as if he smelled haggis gone bad. (Incidentally, I am of the opinion that haggis is always bad.)

"I daresay-" Luckworth began, but his younger colleague interrupted, "Holmes? You don't expect us to believe-"

"I am the niece of Sherlock and the daughter of Sir Mycroft. Ponderous appellations and high powers of deductive reasoning run as rampant in my family as the pox does in Haymarket." I wasn't certain from where I dredged up such confidence, but the words tripped from my tongue.

"I can't imagine how a young lady such as yourself would be familiar with the curse of Haymarket." Grayling cast me a cool gray-green look that threatened to bring a warm flush to my cheeks. "But regardless of your name, Miss Holmes, which I will accept as proof of your relation to the esteemed Misters Holmes, your assistance is unnecessary. Inspector Luckworth and I are well trained and able to do our jobs without interference by a fe-civilian."

"Very well," I said, lifting my nose. "Carry on." At that moment, I wished I had a skirt hem to snatch up for a bit of feminine emphasis in my vexation. His expression made me prickle: supercilious yet polite.

But my new mentor wasn't about to be cowed. "We won't be leaving until we've completed our own investigation." Miss Adler gave me an affirming nod that meant I should continue with my work. I sidled away from the cluster of people.

"Your investigation?" Luckworth choked as I knelt next to the dead girl. "This is not tea time, Miss Adler. Nor is it a woman's salon nor even a ruddy-'scuse me-suffragette meeting. This is the scene of a crime, and only the investigators will remain."

Swallowing hard, I searched through the pockets in the victim's voluminous skirts as Miss Adler responded to the inspector in her low, even tones. It wasn't that I expected to find something as obvious as a Sekhmet scarab, but anything could be a clue. She wore no jewelry except for a comb of topazes in her dark hair, and her gloves were missing.

"Her Royal Highness has authorized you to-" Luckworth bit off his own words as if to keep from saying something regretful.

As the discussion (I use that term loosely) raged between the inspector and Miss Adler, I used my hand-cranked Flip-Illuminator to examine the wound on the girl's arm. When he noticed, Grayling made a sharp sound and stalked over to me. This placed his shoes in my field of vision-right next to my legs, where I crouched in voluminous trousers, and I noticed that his footwear gleamed in the mellow light except near the soles where they were speckled with mud. That reminded me of the foreigner and his mud-free shoes. Was he still in the museum?