Book 9, page 6
Twenty minutes later he was sinking his fork into stuffed salmon baked in Puff pastry and filled with spinach, mushrooms and cheeses. Accompanying the salmon were roasted potatoes and seasonal vegetables followed by fresh field greens with pickled vegetables and mustard seed vinaigrette.
Bill sat back and patted his stomach as the waiter brought him a flaming plum pudding crème caramel and a cup of tea. Lord, he thought as he picked up a small spoon, I forgot I ordered this too. I hope I can still fit in my new clothes. Oh well, waste not want not.
Bill paid the bill and happily left nice a tip. He opened the door and as the fresh sea breeze greeted him, walked slowly back to his hotel. On the way he grabbed a few newspapers and went to his room. The time traveler hung up his newly purchased clothes and was asleep by nine o’clock.
The alarm on his pocket watch woke him. He washed and put on his new clothes: A white jacket, deep blue shirt and blue slacks along with a white captain’s cap and his canvas deck shoes. It took a few minutes for him to get the blue ascot just right around his neck and when he finished he looked in the mirror and said to his reflection: “Finally! After all of this traveling, it’s mission time!” He grinned back at himself and added, “Let’s face it, Bill, it’s the traveling time that we enjoy the most. I get to see things that are nothing but black and white grainy photographs to everyone else. It is simply the best job in the world!” He remembered that the previous president, Prescott Stevens, had once told him: “Bill, preparation is ninety percent of the mission. We don’t just type in where and when we want to be, but rather we must travel to our destination to complete it. So it’s all mundane travel with a few seconds of actually completing the mission.”
Bill grinned again as he remembered his answer to Prescott, “Prescott, traveling the streets of any city of the past could never become mundane to me.”
After breakfast, he checked his watch, exited the hotel and began the walk toward the dock along with the crowd all heading to the same destination. His timing was perfect as Parsons just closed the gate to his house and started his walk towards the dock for his final practice run before the next day’s event. It seemed that every boat owner was taking the same route and as most men wore the same type clothing as Bill, he felt almost invisible.
Parsons left the group and entered The Wee Tea Shop. Bill saw another dozen men do the same so he followed.
He stepped in and was bathed in the aroma of coffee, tea and biscuits. The shop had whitewashed walls with paintings of sailboats taking every square inch of them. There was a long counter where patrons stood and sipped their drinks while others took theirs outside. There were five small tables where some people sat and read as they enjoyed their snacks. The customers helped by removing any empty mugs from the counter so there was always an open spot for someone to enjoy their drink. Bill saw that Parsons ordered a mug and sipped his tea at the counter so he did the same making sure there were people between them. A man stepped behind Parsons and removed an empty mug, nudging him accidently. Fifteen minutes later Parsons emptied his mug, placed it on the counter and a new customer removed it. Bill followed him out the door and once again they joined the crowd heading to the dock.
Parsons had a jaunty step and soon was moving up and through the crowd. Unknown to him, Bill did the same.
Suddenly Bill saw that he was right on Parsons’ heels and had to almost stop short or bump into him. Parsons was walking slow and rubbing his eyes and Bill saw that he stumbled a few times.
Is he sick? Bill thought wondering if he should grab him before he falls. Maybe this is why he fell off the dock . . . I’d better be ready.
Parsons stopped, shook his head vigorously as if to get a grip on himself, and stepped off again slightly faster.
Finally at the dock, he, along with a crowd, walked down the wooden walkway where they kept their boats tied up, carefully stepping over coils of rope, lunch pails, tools and a hundred other items needed to make a ship seaworthy . . . Bill was right behind him filled with the tension that always arrives at the moment that the mission’s action was about to take place. Finally, Parsons stood on the dock right above his boat. All around them on the crowded dock was the coming and goings of boat owners and friends. Unbeknownst to Parsons, Bill stood next to, but slightly behind him ready to prevent him from falling off the dock. Bill took a small step forward for a better angle when a rotten section of the wooden dock crumbled beneath him.
Not part of the plan, he thought as he saw Parsons and a young man falling with him and before he hit his head on the cross member that supported the dock and knocked him out.
“Sir, are you all right?”
Bill slowly opened one eye and tried to sit up when a slim hand pushed gently on his chest. “Sir, please go slow. You have quite a gash on your head.”
Bill tried to touch the hurting spot and once again the hand restrained him. “Sir, I beg you, please don’t. I have some cold handkerchiefs pressed upon it.”
Bill asked, “Parsons? Is-is he safe?”
“Mister Parsons is fine. Wet as a fish, as are you, but safe and sound aboard his boat.
“W-Where are we?” Bill asked as he slowly opened both eyes and saw that they were not on the dock.
“Greetings, my friend,” said a high-pitch voice, “I do hope you are feeling fit.”
Bill now saw that the man extending his hand was Charles Parsons.
“I, sir, am Charles Parsons and you are?”
“Bill Scott. Pleased to meet you, sir.”
They shook hands and Parsons said, “The pleasure is all mine, sir. I know that you fell trying to stop me as I was woozy and in danger of falling.” He turned to the third person in the cabin and went on, “Mister Scott this is Shirley Weston, the young lady who saved us both. It seems that none of the gentlemen on the dock were ready to get their outfits wet and she singlehandedly got us both aboard my ship. I do hope you are feeling dandy.”
Bill now realized that the young lady was dressed as a young boy as he offered his hand, “Miss Weston, how can I thank you?”
“No need, sir,” she answered as they shook hands, “and please address me as Shirley. I saw you fall and an instant later Mister Parsons joined you in the water. Before being able to apply my nurses training, someone needed to retrieve you both and as I was a life guard it seemed natural for me to do it.”
Parsons nodded, “Good for us both, Mister Scott, that women have advanced so far.”
“I agree,” said Bill.
Shirley crossed her arms as she said, “Not so far as you might think, sirs. Why, they keep the voting booths closed to us and are upset should we light a pipe or cigar up.”
“So, asked Bill, “why are you dressed as a man?”
“As I implied sir,” she answered as her brown eyes flashed angrily, “it’s easier to get closer to where the action is dressed as one of you.”
Bill grinned as he nodded and once again tried to sit. Both Parsons and Shirley helped and soon he was sitting on the bunk with his legs hanging over the side. He heard and felt the throb of an engine and asked, “Are we underway?”
“Yes. You are on board my ship the Turbinia.”
“And,” asked Bill, “where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular, just getting her in shape for tomorrow’s Naval Review.” He looked at Bill with both of his eyebrows furrowed and asked, “Mister Scott, are you Canadian?”
“Close, but no, I’m an American, and please call me Bill.”
“Bill it is sir and please address me as Charles.”
“And me as Shirley,” added the young lady as she shuddered.”
“Well, Bill and Shirley, I have a small wardrobe and insist that you both change and I shall have your clothing dried in no time in my engine room.”
“May I retrieve my wallet as I have papers in it that must be dried, as for my clothing just throw them on a coat hangar and they’ll quickly dry.”
“Captain,” came a call from topside.
“I’ll send Mister Fredricks down with the clothing and your wallet, sir, as I must go topside with my crew. You may take turns in that cabin,” he said pointing to the door. “Please join me when you are ready.”
Ten minutes later they were dressed in workman’s clothes and stood next to Parsons in the small cockpit.
“How fast can she go?” asked Bill feeling him out.
With a grin, Parsons answered, “Faster than any ship ever built, my friend.”
“So,” Bill answered, “the rumors are true.”
Parsons grinned, “I’ve not heard them all, Bill, please enlighten me.”
“That you invented a superior engine that you would share with the British Navy.”
Parson’s shoulders dropped as he said, “My friends, the British Navy is the best in the world but there are times that they rest on their laurels. I have tried to show them my ship and after telling them the speed she can achieve, they pass me off to another who then passes me to another and so forth. They think me to be a fool.”
“Do you have a plan of action,” Shirley asked the inventor as she squeezed seawater out of her long brown hair.
“I hope to find an officer who would listen when they take shore leave in town after the Naval review.”
“Nothing more than that?” asked Bill.
The little man shrugged his shoulders and said, “More than that cannot be done, Bill. I cannot drag them to see the Turbinia.” He looked at the traffic around his ship and said, “Best we dock now. I have to refuel for tomorrow’s event.”
Thirty minutes later Bill and Shirley were dressed back in their own clothes and climbing back up the dock. Bill turned to Parsons, “Thank you for the ride, Charles, it was great fun and I wish I were with you tomorrow.”
“Please,” answered Parsons as he helped the crew tie her up, “Join me tomorrow in my quest to be recognized. It’s not too often that one’s life is saved and I do wish to thank you in the only way I excel: aboard my ship. We shall pass the Queen’s ship in review as well as the many battleships, destroyers and other type of ships. It will be an event that shall be spoken off for quite some time.”
Bill looked at Shirley and they both nodded to each other before Bill asked, “What time?”
“Ten o’clock is push-off time, but I ask that you speak to no one about the Turbinia tonight.”
Bill waved, “My lips are zipped close. See you tomorrow.”
Bill and Shirley started to walk up the road and when they got to a restaurant Bill offered, “Shirley, please allow me to buy you dinner?”
“Will you allow me to change first? After all, I really am a woman in men’s clothing.”
“No problem. I’d like to change from these clothes myself. Where are you staying?”
“The Wind Jammer.”
“Ha, so am I. I’m in room 206.”
“209.”
“How long do you need? I’ll meet you in the hall.”
She closed her eyes then said, “One hour.”
“Bring your appetite, I am starving!”
“That is what happens when one goes swimming in the early morning.”
“Well then you must be hungry too.”
One hour and fifteen minutes later Shirley opened her door and Bill was startled at her transformation. Her five-foot five-inch frame filled her full-length, off-white, dress that was pinched at the waist. It also had lace cuffs that went up to her elbows. The bodice was all lace and went up her neck as a turtleneck might but round pearl buttons buttoned it. The bottom of her dress rested lightly on her shoes and what could be seen of them were silk and linen with small heels. She wore her brown hair piled-up with a pearl fork in it and the light of the hall gaslight reflected off her deep brown eyes. She carried a small silk purse.
After a moment Bill said, “Boy, if I were you I’d never dress like a man.”
“Then,” she said as she offered an arm, “I shall never find out why men do not want us to vote.”
“Or smoke pipes,” added a grinning Bill as he took her arm.
They had dinner in the same place that Bill ate in the evening before.
“Shall we stroll the beach?” asked Bill.
“What time is it?”
Bill dug out his stopwatch and said, “Seven-thirty.”
She grinned and said; “I forgot that you are from the colonies and new to this section of Scotland. You see mosquitoes inhabit the shoreline every evening from sundown to eight o’clock.”
“I didn’t know that. Perhaps we should bring a fly swatter?”
“Or perhaps we should have a sip of hard cider in the hotel?”
Bill smiled “You, my dear Shirley, are a cut above other women. To the bar we shall go and perhaps light a cigar.”
Twenty minutes later the couple sat on two tall wooden stools with plush red cushions at the bar of the hotel. They were sipping hard cider when Bill produced two Cuban cigars.
Shirley’s eyes opened wide, “Sir, you are a cut above other men, indeed.”
Bill laughed as he lit both cigars while looking in the large mirror behind the bar at the four men at the end of the bar who took umbrage and left mumbling as they passed Bill and Shirley, “I say, next we shall find them in the voting booth.” Bill and Shirley laughed.
On their second drink, Shirley turned to Bill and said, “So, Bill Scott, tell me why you were following Mister Parsons today.”
Bill aimed a smoke ring at the ceiling and said as it widened, “Look, it’s as round as a Ferris wheel.”
“You stall, sir,” she said as she blew a smoke ring after his.
He looked her in the eye and asked, “What makes you think I was following him?”
“Because yesterday you walked by and looked at his house and today you walked by as he was locking his gate. Then you followed him into the tea shop and left right after him.”
Bill nodded, “Did you follow him or me?”
“Do you admit to following him, then?”
“Just a coincidence, that’s all.” He turned to face her, “I believe that it was you dressed in a disguise that followed Parsons, and in doing so, wanted to see if anyone else was doing the same, because if you saw me yesterday as I passed his house and then again today as I casually passed it again, and decided to have a cup of tea, then it is you trailing him. What say you to that Ms. Weston?”
Shirley took a long pull on her cigar as she studied him. “I admit to following him for fear of someone wanting to stop him from showing off his boat. And when I saw you following Parsons twice, I thought that you may be the person set out to do him harm.”
Bill grinned, “Perhaps I am the person, but by falling into the water my plan was thrown off course.”
“No,” she answered, “For as I pulled you out of the water you mumbled, ‘Is he safe? I have to save him. Is he safe?” So I must assume that we both are here to keep him alive.”
“Both?” he asked with raised eyebrows, “You are here to keep him alive?”
“Yes. And I know that you were not here to kill him because that person got away.”
Bill shook his head and was rewarded with a shooting pain, which made him wince, “You mean you saw the person that tried to kill him? When, where?”
“When? Today. Where? At the dock.”
“B-But he fell . . . like me, he just fell from the rotting dock.”
She nodded, “Admittedly it happened fast but not fast enough to get by my scrutiny.”
“All right. Tell me how it went.”
“When you fell most everyone watched you, but I kept my eyes on Parsons. Now if a person falls because they blacked out, they fall down and forward. However Parsons fell in such a manner as to point at his being pushed from behind.”
“What manner?”
“He fell stomach first with his shoulders and head back.”
Bill shrugged his shoulders and asked, “I don’t get it.”
“It means he was pushed from behind probably by an umbrella or walking stick.”
The time traveler shrugged again, “Where do you get that from? Why an umbrella or a walking stick?”
“Because,” she said as she swished the drink around in her hand, “I spotted a round indentation in his jacket at the small of his back the size of an umbrella or walking stick as he fell.”
Bill looked puzzled at her. “You noticed all of that as you were jumping in to save us? You have quite an eye, Shirley.” He took a sip of his drink and asked, “Are you working for an agency?”
She answered with a wide grin, “Well I certainly hope it’s not the same one as you, yank.”
Bill grinned back, “I really doubt it. Are you with Scotland Yard?”
She studied her drink and then said, “You know that women are not allowed to work for a police establishment. No, I work for someone who works for them and occasionally asks me for my help.” She stopped and her brown eyes flashed as she added, “And it is for that reason that I help him out: because by helping him, I am solving mysteries that the men of the great Scotland Yard cannot solve.” She showed him her empty glass.
Bill finished his drink, summoned the bartender and in a few minutes they touched glasses as he said, “Here’s to women voting.”
“To women voting,” she said and they both took a sip of their cider.
“So,” Bill asked, “am I correct in saying that you were hired to prevent something from happening to Parsons?”
“If I answer that, sir, will you answer my questions?”
“I promise!”
“First,” she said, “I must ascertain that you know of Mister Parsons’ special marine engine.”
Bill nodded, “Yes. It’s supposed to be quite fast.”
Shirley went on, “The gentleman who hired me is connected to many prestigious establishments, clubs and businesses both in Europe and internationally. He heard of Parsons’ engine and feels that if the British Navy ever sees what it is capable of, they would incorporate it in their warships.” She took a sip as two men walked by then started up again, “My friend believes that soon there will be a war in Europe and that Great Britain might be pulled into it and in that vein of thought he automatically fears that the potential enemy might hear of this engine and try to end it before the Navy gets in on it. He asked that I keep an eye on him for a bit and already I have prevented his worries from becoming true. I also believe that a Scotland Yard man would have tried to apprehend the man who pushed him rather than save Parsons . . . sort of ‘I have the culprit who murdered Charles Parsons’.”
Bill sat back and patted his stomach as the waiter brought him a flaming plum pudding crème caramel and a cup of tea. Lord, he thought as he picked up a small spoon, I forgot I ordered this too. I hope I can still fit in my new clothes. Oh well, waste not want not.
Bill paid the bill and happily left nice a tip. He opened the door and as the fresh sea breeze greeted him, walked slowly back to his hotel. On the way he grabbed a few newspapers and went to his room. The time traveler hung up his newly purchased clothes and was asleep by nine o’clock.
The alarm on his pocket watch woke him. He washed and put on his new clothes: A white jacket, deep blue shirt and blue slacks along with a white captain’s cap and his canvas deck shoes. It took a few minutes for him to get the blue ascot just right around his neck and when he finished he looked in the mirror and said to his reflection: “Finally! After all of this traveling, it’s mission time!” He grinned back at himself and added, “Let’s face it, Bill, it’s the traveling time that we enjoy the most. I get to see things that are nothing but black and white grainy photographs to everyone else. It is simply the best job in the world!” He remembered that the previous president, Prescott Stevens, had once told him: “Bill, preparation is ninety percent of the mission. We don’t just type in where and when we want to be, but rather we must travel to our destination to complete it. So it’s all mundane travel with a few seconds of actually completing the mission.”
Bill grinned again as he remembered his answer to Prescott, “Prescott, traveling the streets of any city of the past could never become mundane to me.”
After breakfast, he checked his watch, exited the hotel and began the walk toward the dock along with the crowd all heading to the same destination. His timing was perfect as Parsons just closed the gate to his house and started his walk towards the dock for his final practice run before the next day’s event. It seemed that every boat owner was taking the same route and as most men wore the same type clothing as Bill, he felt almost invisible.
Parsons left the group and entered The Wee Tea Shop. Bill saw another dozen men do the same so he followed.
He stepped in and was bathed in the aroma of coffee, tea and biscuits. The shop had whitewashed walls with paintings of sailboats taking every square inch of them. There was a long counter where patrons stood and sipped their drinks while others took theirs outside. There were five small tables where some people sat and read as they enjoyed their snacks. The customers helped by removing any empty mugs from the counter so there was always an open spot for someone to enjoy their drink. Bill saw that Parsons ordered a mug and sipped his tea at the counter so he did the same making sure there were people between them. A man stepped behind Parsons and removed an empty mug, nudging him accidently. Fifteen minutes later Parsons emptied his mug, placed it on the counter and a new customer removed it. Bill followed him out the door and once again they joined the crowd heading to the dock.
Parsons had a jaunty step and soon was moving up and through the crowd. Unknown to him, Bill did the same.
Suddenly Bill saw that he was right on Parsons’ heels and had to almost stop short or bump into him. Parsons was walking slow and rubbing his eyes and Bill saw that he stumbled a few times.
Is he sick? Bill thought wondering if he should grab him before he falls. Maybe this is why he fell off the dock . . . I’d better be ready.
Parsons stopped, shook his head vigorously as if to get a grip on himself, and stepped off again slightly faster.
Finally at the dock, he, along with a crowd, walked down the wooden walkway where they kept their boats tied up, carefully stepping over coils of rope, lunch pails, tools and a hundred other items needed to make a ship seaworthy . . . Bill was right behind him filled with the tension that always arrives at the moment that the mission’s action was about to take place. Finally, Parsons stood on the dock right above his boat. All around them on the crowded dock was the coming and goings of boat owners and friends. Unbeknownst to Parsons, Bill stood next to, but slightly behind him ready to prevent him from falling off the dock. Bill took a small step forward for a better angle when a rotten section of the wooden dock crumbled beneath him.
Not part of the plan, he thought as he saw Parsons and a young man falling with him and before he hit his head on the cross member that supported the dock and knocked him out.
“Sir, are you all right?”
Bill slowly opened one eye and tried to sit up when a slim hand pushed gently on his chest. “Sir, please go slow. You have quite a gash on your head.”
Bill tried to touch the hurting spot and once again the hand restrained him. “Sir, I beg you, please don’t. I have some cold handkerchiefs pressed upon it.”
Bill asked, “Parsons? Is-is he safe?”
“Mister Parsons is fine. Wet as a fish, as are you, but safe and sound aboard his boat.
“W-Where are we?” Bill asked as he slowly opened both eyes and saw that they were not on the dock.
“Greetings, my friend,” said a high-pitch voice, “I do hope you are feeling fit.”
Bill now saw that the man extending his hand was Charles Parsons.
“I, sir, am Charles Parsons and you are?”
“Bill Scott. Pleased to meet you, sir.”
They shook hands and Parsons said, “The pleasure is all mine, sir. I know that you fell trying to stop me as I was woozy and in danger of falling.” He turned to the third person in the cabin and went on, “Mister Scott this is Shirley Weston, the young lady who saved us both. It seems that none of the gentlemen on the dock were ready to get their outfits wet and she singlehandedly got us both aboard my ship. I do hope you are feeling dandy.”
Bill now realized that the young lady was dressed as a young boy as he offered his hand, “Miss Weston, how can I thank you?”
“No need, sir,” she answered as they shook hands, “and please address me as Shirley. I saw you fall and an instant later Mister Parsons joined you in the water. Before being able to apply my nurses training, someone needed to retrieve you both and as I was a life guard it seemed natural for me to do it.”
Parsons nodded, “Good for us both, Mister Scott, that women have advanced so far.”
“I agree,” said Bill.
Shirley crossed her arms as she said, “Not so far as you might think, sirs. Why, they keep the voting booths closed to us and are upset should we light a pipe or cigar up.”
“So, asked Bill, “why are you dressed as a man?”
“As I implied sir,” she answered as her brown eyes flashed angrily, “it’s easier to get closer to where the action is dressed as one of you.”
Bill grinned as he nodded and once again tried to sit. Both Parsons and Shirley helped and soon he was sitting on the bunk with his legs hanging over the side. He heard and felt the throb of an engine and asked, “Are we underway?”
“Yes. You are on board my ship the Turbinia.”
“And,” asked Bill, “where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular, just getting her in shape for tomorrow’s Naval Review.” He looked at Bill with both of his eyebrows furrowed and asked, “Mister Scott, are you Canadian?”
“Close, but no, I’m an American, and please call me Bill.”
“Bill it is sir and please address me as Charles.”
“And me as Shirley,” added the young lady as she shuddered.”
“Well, Bill and Shirley, I have a small wardrobe and insist that you both change and I shall have your clothing dried in no time in my engine room.”
“May I retrieve my wallet as I have papers in it that must be dried, as for my clothing just throw them on a coat hangar and they’ll quickly dry.”
“Captain,” came a call from topside.
“I’ll send Mister Fredricks down with the clothing and your wallet, sir, as I must go topside with my crew. You may take turns in that cabin,” he said pointing to the door. “Please join me when you are ready.”
Ten minutes later they were dressed in workman’s clothes and stood next to Parsons in the small cockpit.
“How fast can she go?” asked Bill feeling him out.
With a grin, Parsons answered, “Faster than any ship ever built, my friend.”
“So,” Bill answered, “the rumors are true.”
Parsons grinned, “I’ve not heard them all, Bill, please enlighten me.”
“That you invented a superior engine that you would share with the British Navy.”
Parson’s shoulders dropped as he said, “My friends, the British Navy is the best in the world but there are times that they rest on their laurels. I have tried to show them my ship and after telling them the speed she can achieve, they pass me off to another who then passes me to another and so forth. They think me to be a fool.”
“Do you have a plan of action,” Shirley asked the inventor as she squeezed seawater out of her long brown hair.
“I hope to find an officer who would listen when they take shore leave in town after the Naval review.”
“Nothing more than that?” asked Bill.
The little man shrugged his shoulders and said, “More than that cannot be done, Bill. I cannot drag them to see the Turbinia.” He looked at the traffic around his ship and said, “Best we dock now. I have to refuel for tomorrow’s event.”
Thirty minutes later Bill and Shirley were dressed back in their own clothes and climbing back up the dock. Bill turned to Parsons, “Thank you for the ride, Charles, it was great fun and I wish I were with you tomorrow.”
“Please,” answered Parsons as he helped the crew tie her up, “Join me tomorrow in my quest to be recognized. It’s not too often that one’s life is saved and I do wish to thank you in the only way I excel: aboard my ship. We shall pass the Queen’s ship in review as well as the many battleships, destroyers and other type of ships. It will be an event that shall be spoken off for quite some time.”
Bill looked at Shirley and they both nodded to each other before Bill asked, “What time?”
“Ten o’clock is push-off time, but I ask that you speak to no one about the Turbinia tonight.”
Bill waved, “My lips are zipped close. See you tomorrow.”
Bill and Shirley started to walk up the road and when they got to a restaurant Bill offered, “Shirley, please allow me to buy you dinner?”
“Will you allow me to change first? After all, I really am a woman in men’s clothing.”
“No problem. I’d like to change from these clothes myself. Where are you staying?”
“The Wind Jammer.”
“Ha, so am I. I’m in room 206.”
“209.”
“How long do you need? I’ll meet you in the hall.”
She closed her eyes then said, “One hour.”
“Bring your appetite, I am starving!”
“That is what happens when one goes swimming in the early morning.”
“Well then you must be hungry too.”
One hour and fifteen minutes later Shirley opened her door and Bill was startled at her transformation. Her five-foot five-inch frame filled her full-length, off-white, dress that was pinched at the waist. It also had lace cuffs that went up to her elbows. The bodice was all lace and went up her neck as a turtleneck might but round pearl buttons buttoned it. The bottom of her dress rested lightly on her shoes and what could be seen of them were silk and linen with small heels. She wore her brown hair piled-up with a pearl fork in it and the light of the hall gaslight reflected off her deep brown eyes. She carried a small silk purse.
After a moment Bill said, “Boy, if I were you I’d never dress like a man.”
“Then,” she said as she offered an arm, “I shall never find out why men do not want us to vote.”
“Or smoke pipes,” added a grinning Bill as he took her arm.
They had dinner in the same place that Bill ate in the evening before.
“Shall we stroll the beach?” asked Bill.
“What time is it?”
Bill dug out his stopwatch and said, “Seven-thirty.”
She grinned and said; “I forgot that you are from the colonies and new to this section of Scotland. You see mosquitoes inhabit the shoreline every evening from sundown to eight o’clock.”
“I didn’t know that. Perhaps we should bring a fly swatter?”
“Or perhaps we should have a sip of hard cider in the hotel?”
Bill smiled “You, my dear Shirley, are a cut above other women. To the bar we shall go and perhaps light a cigar.”
Twenty minutes later the couple sat on two tall wooden stools with plush red cushions at the bar of the hotel. They were sipping hard cider when Bill produced two Cuban cigars.
Shirley’s eyes opened wide, “Sir, you are a cut above other men, indeed.”
Bill laughed as he lit both cigars while looking in the large mirror behind the bar at the four men at the end of the bar who took umbrage and left mumbling as they passed Bill and Shirley, “I say, next we shall find them in the voting booth.” Bill and Shirley laughed.
On their second drink, Shirley turned to Bill and said, “So, Bill Scott, tell me why you were following Mister Parsons today.”
Bill aimed a smoke ring at the ceiling and said as it widened, “Look, it’s as round as a Ferris wheel.”
“You stall, sir,” she said as she blew a smoke ring after his.
He looked her in the eye and asked, “What makes you think I was following him?”
“Because yesterday you walked by and looked at his house and today you walked by as he was locking his gate. Then you followed him into the tea shop and left right after him.”
Bill nodded, “Did you follow him or me?”
“Do you admit to following him, then?”
“Just a coincidence, that’s all.” He turned to face her, “I believe that it was you dressed in a disguise that followed Parsons, and in doing so, wanted to see if anyone else was doing the same, because if you saw me yesterday as I passed his house and then again today as I casually passed it again, and decided to have a cup of tea, then it is you trailing him. What say you to that Ms. Weston?”
Shirley took a long pull on her cigar as she studied him. “I admit to following him for fear of someone wanting to stop him from showing off his boat. And when I saw you following Parsons twice, I thought that you may be the person set out to do him harm.”
Bill grinned, “Perhaps I am the person, but by falling into the water my plan was thrown off course.”
“No,” she answered, “For as I pulled you out of the water you mumbled, ‘Is he safe? I have to save him. Is he safe?” So I must assume that we both are here to keep him alive.”
“Both?” he asked with raised eyebrows, “You are here to keep him alive?”
“Yes. And I know that you were not here to kill him because that person got away.”
Bill shook his head and was rewarded with a shooting pain, which made him wince, “You mean you saw the person that tried to kill him? When, where?”
“When? Today. Where? At the dock.”
“B-But he fell . . . like me, he just fell from the rotting dock.”
She nodded, “Admittedly it happened fast but not fast enough to get by my scrutiny.”
“All right. Tell me how it went.”
“When you fell most everyone watched you, but I kept my eyes on Parsons. Now if a person falls because they blacked out, they fall down and forward. However Parsons fell in such a manner as to point at his being pushed from behind.”
“What manner?”
“He fell stomach first with his shoulders and head back.”
Bill shrugged his shoulders and asked, “I don’t get it.”
“It means he was pushed from behind probably by an umbrella or walking stick.”
The time traveler shrugged again, “Where do you get that from? Why an umbrella or a walking stick?”
“Because,” she said as she swished the drink around in her hand, “I spotted a round indentation in his jacket at the small of his back the size of an umbrella or walking stick as he fell.”
Bill looked puzzled at her. “You noticed all of that as you were jumping in to save us? You have quite an eye, Shirley.” He took a sip of his drink and asked, “Are you working for an agency?”
She answered with a wide grin, “Well I certainly hope it’s not the same one as you, yank.”
Bill grinned back, “I really doubt it. Are you with Scotland Yard?”
She studied her drink and then said, “You know that women are not allowed to work for a police establishment. No, I work for someone who works for them and occasionally asks me for my help.” She stopped and her brown eyes flashed as she added, “And it is for that reason that I help him out: because by helping him, I am solving mysteries that the men of the great Scotland Yard cannot solve.” She showed him her empty glass.
Bill finished his drink, summoned the bartender and in a few minutes they touched glasses as he said, “Here’s to women voting.”
“To women voting,” she said and they both took a sip of their cider.
“So,” Bill asked, “am I correct in saying that you were hired to prevent something from happening to Parsons?”
“If I answer that, sir, will you answer my questions?”
“I promise!”
“First,” she said, “I must ascertain that you know of Mister Parsons’ special marine engine.”
Bill nodded, “Yes. It’s supposed to be quite fast.”
Shirley went on, “The gentleman who hired me is connected to many prestigious establishments, clubs and businesses both in Europe and internationally. He heard of Parsons’ engine and feels that if the British Navy ever sees what it is capable of, they would incorporate it in their warships.” She took a sip as two men walked by then started up again, “My friend believes that soon there will be a war in Europe and that Great Britain might be pulled into it and in that vein of thought he automatically fears that the potential enemy might hear of this engine and try to end it before the Navy gets in on it. He asked that I keep an eye on him for a bit and already I have prevented his worries from becoming true. I also believe that a Scotland Yard man would have tried to apprehend the man who pushed him rather than save Parsons . . . sort of ‘I have the culprit who murdered Charles Parsons’.”
