Page 47 of Sirens
Maggie followed Vee through a parted velvet curtain and stepped into a space lifted straight out of an antique boudoir painting. The office walls, painted in a rich hue of burgundy, were lined with artfully curated shelves that carried a multitude of erotic sculptures from across the globe and time periods. Each artifact embodied the raw and alluring power of human sensuality in its own unique way.
The room was lit by a pair of opulent Art Nouveau lamps, their golden light warming the rich hues of the furniture. An imposing dark oak desk claimed the center stage, and meticulous piles of books and wholesale catalogs with artfully arranged displays of bondage cuffs and ball gags were stacked neatly on one corner.
Now there was a career path she’d never considered. Bondage buyer. That would look good on a business card, right?
Maybe she could do that if this latest stab at a life reboot went the same way as all the rest.
“Now then.” Vee busied herself at a credenza turned bar cabinet, clicking on an electric teakettle and withdrawing twodelicate rose chintz teacups from one of the drawers. “Tell me how I may be of service.”
Settling onto the sofa, Maggie quickly summarized her findings, finishing by reaching into her pocketbook to produce the brothel menu.
“Let’s see this, then.” Vee set down the steaming cups as she lowered herself onto the couch next to Maggie and lifted a pair of reading glasses dangling from a probably real gold chain around her neck.
The resiny scent of bergamot floated upward, perfuming the air around them as Vee paged through the pamphlet.
A frown creased the older woman’s brow. “Where did you say you found this again?”
Maggie shifted, suddenly uneasy. “We found it in an armoire in Madame Katz’s room in the Palace Hotel.”
Vee arched one penciled eyebrow. “We?”
Shit.
Maggie had been so careful to make this sound like a singular pursuit when she’d narrated it.
She sighed. No point trying to hide it now. “Yes. Deputy McGarvey and I found it.”
Vee lifted her cup and sipped with effortless grace. “The same Deputy McGarvey who arrested you, Gabe, and my wife?”
Maggie sipped her tea, conscious that she was imitating—poorly—Vee’s aristocratic bearing. “That’s the guy.”
“What a delightful twist.”
Leaning back onto the couch, Vee crossed her legs, a thoughtful expression creasing a face that age hadn’t managed to rob of its classic beauty.
“Ariadne’s Anchor,” she mused. “It’s not a term that I encountered in any of my research, and Victorian brothels were somewhat of a specialty of mine. Which leads me to think it maybe code for something. Perhaps a discreet service offered to only certain high-profile clients?”
Maggie nodded slowly. “That makes sense. But what kind of service would be that much more expensive than anything else on the menu?”
Vee tapped her chin thoughtfully with a pearly nail. “Perhaps we’re going about this the wrong way. The names of all of the other items have at least some correlation with the service itself. Which was also the case with the other brothel menus I studied when doing my undergraduate work.”
“Do you happen to remember any of them?” Maggie asked, finding that she wanted to draw this conversation out just to sit in the calming wake of Vee’s voice.
“Oh yes,” Vee said. “‘The Gentleman’s Delight’—that’s just a fancy name for a hand job. And ‘the Duchess’—why, that’s nothing more than your standard sixty-nine. But my personal favorite would have to be the ‘Quivering Quill.’”
“I don’t know if I’m afraid or intrigued to hear what that entailed,” Maggie said.
“Both are applicable in this case,” Vee replied. “Basically, it included inserting a quill anally before using it to write erotic poetry.”
“You’re shitting me,” Maggie said, her eyes flicking to the pen tucked behind Vee’s ear.
“I shitteth thee not,” Vee conceded with a knowing wink. “But as to this particular offering, perhaps the reference to Greek mythology is more important than we realized.”
“Ariadne was the one who helped what’s-his-dick when it came to the maze of the Minotaur, yes?”
“Exactly!” Vee said, her eyes lighting up. “Ariadne was the daughter of King Minos. She gave Theseus a ball of thread to help him find his way out of the labyrinth after defeating the Minotaur.”
“Right,” Maggie said, nodding, “but what does that have to do with…you know, the sexual stuff?” She gestured vaguely at the brothel menu, feeling more out of her depth than ever.
