Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity by Natalie Brianne (new ebook reader TXT) 📕

“It was still corrupted! So that means—”

“There is most definitely more to this than meets the eye.”

“Brilliant!” She found herself grinning, and he returned a smile.

“Now I’d say we ought to pop over to the press, send in our advertisement and then perhaps do something different today.” He placed his journal in his satchel.

“And what is that?”

“You’ll see.” He stood, grabbed the note, and moved towards the door. He put on his hat as Mira followed him. They walked along the cobblestone street for a few blocks before Mira’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“I’ve been told that telling people things can ruin the surprise.” He looked over at her with his laughing eyes, and she smiled, relenting.

“Very well.”

“Besides, if you work with me, I assume you like a good mystery.”

“It isn’t a mystery if I don’t have clues!”

“It’s just a surprise then.”

“You infuriate me sometimes.”

“I do? I must make a note of that then,” he teased. “Is this what you look like when you are angry?” He gave her a sideways glance.

“No! I mean, maybe.” She paused. “Yes.”

“Ah, so then I don’t infuriate you. Good to know. I won’t make a note of it then.” She laughed at his statement and he grinned, beginning to laugh as well. Her laugh died down as they approached the Central News Agency.

He opened the door for her, and she stepped inside. The sounds of type being set, several presses printing, and newsboys running from place to place echoed throughout the establishment. Byron followed behind her and went straight towards the editor’s office. She followed, but stayed outside on a signal from him. She looked around at the hubbub and overheard two newsboys talking nearby.

“You seen the front page yet? ‘Cat Burglar Strikes Again!’”

“Perfect headline really, it’ll sell a lot of papers.”

“Funny how people get robbed and other people want to read about it.”

“It’s called being an interested citizen Georgie, and it’s what pays them bills.”

“Do you think the police will catch ‘im?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care, as long as we keep getting good headlines. Besides, it’s better to have a burglary than another leather apron murder.”

The paperboys walked out of earshot, and Byron walked out of the editor’s office.

“It’s in! Now we just have to wait for a response,” he said.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“The burglar has struck again.”

“Where did you hear that?” His brow furrowed. She pulled him by the sleeve over to a press that had stopped. She pointed to the headline.

“‘Cat Burglar Strikes Again.’ If they keep making themselves known they are bound to be caught, and then we’ll have a suspect for our case!”

“Correction Mira. An additional suspect.” Byron began walking out with purpose. Mira followed close at his heels.

“But wouldn’t the burglar be the most likely to have done it? I mean if it was murder, maybe they came into burglarize, heard a noise, picked something up, and ended up killing him.”

“That is a possible solution, yes. A rather good one at that. We just need evidence to support it. And for all we know, this could go deeper than the surface.” His gaze got serious for a moment.

“So then are we going to Scotland Yard?”

“Heavens, no. That can wait. I believe that we have somewhere else to be.”

“The surprise you mean?”

“Yes.” He kept walking down the street, pausing to wait for a carriage to pass before turning towards the docks.

Two types of ships anchored at the Mooreland docks. Ships that sailed in the water, and ships that sailed in the air. Technically speaking, both types ran on steam, however only the ships that travelled through the water were called steamships. The Vaporidge Steamship Company owned Mooreland. Their steamships carried passengers and cargo across the Atlantic to America, sailed down the coast of Africa, and brought goods back from India. Their airships carried passengers around England, and crossed the channel to France, and soon enough they would travel to Russia. There were many companies that owned a fleet of steamships, but only Vaporidge had perfected the art of flying. That is to say, Silver Lining perfected it, and Vaporidge bought it.

The docks were divided into two sections. One went down to the waterfront of the Thames. There the steamships were moored and ready to unload cargo or head out to the ocean. The second section went to a bit of higher ground, with airships moored to a large scaffolding with staircases connecting each piece. Byron veered towards the higher docks and Mira’s breath caught in her throat.

They approached the docking area and moved towards a large red balloon. Cables crisscrossed over the surface, creating a quilted pattern. The cables were connected to the main passenger chassis which looked to be almost one thousand feet in length. It was significantly larger than she had expected.

She didn’t realize she had stopped moving until she noticed Byron’s scrutinizing stare. Her face reddened, and she started walking again.

“Are you alright, Mira?”

“Quite. I’ve just never been this close to one before.”

“I see.” He pulled two tickets out of his pocket and proceeded up the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned and offered his hand. Hesitating a moment, she took it and he helped her up, giving her hand a comforting squeeze before letting go. He passed the tickets to the conductor and led the way into the airship.

The highly embellished interior was in stark contrast to the docks below. Mira knew of airships holding up to one hundred and twenty people, with elaborate guest quarters and restaurants, observation decks and ballrooms. The halls were carpeted in red to match the canvas of the balloon. She ran her hand along the inner walls covered in a cream wallpaper with golden fleur-de-lis accents. A mahogany chair rail ran along the wall with portrait and landscape paintings dotted along the way. The outer wall was clear, curved glass that ran all the way around the exterior of the airship to give