Page 72 of Hawk & Sparrow

She might have been anywhere between sixty and seventy. Vesper couldn’t put her finger on it, but this woman seemed almost familiar. It took a few seconds, but then, with a start, she realized where she recognized the old woman from.

“You were at the Main Street Farmer’s Market selling baked goods.” Maximilian looked stunned. “I bought two pies and two tartlets from you!”

The old woman’s brows rose. “How were they?”

Maximilian swallowed. “Exceptional. Don’t change a thing.”

The old woman nodded with approval. “Not all of my trade is contraband, young man,” she said. “I strongly believe that all women should have at least two passion projects outside of work.” To Vesper, she added: “I also enjoy gardening, when my knees allow.”

“I don’t understand,” said Vesper. “I didn’t think…”

“That the most prolific crime syndicate in this city could be run by a little old woman?” Miss Thally’s smile dimmed just slightly. “Surprising, Miss Evans. With your background, I expected better.”

Beside her, Maximilian stiffened. Vesper stood straighter. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do.” Miss Thally leaned back in her chair. “I make it a point to know who works in every media outlet in this city, who’s covering my organization’s endeavors.” She inclined her head. “I must say, you’ve written several riveting pieces about us. You’ve quite a way with words, dear. That’s part of the reason you’re standing here.”

Vesper wasn’t sure whether to be honored or horrified. A part of her wanted to run from the room, but her boots were rooted to the ground.

“I also make it a point to be aware of who’s in Thally Rouser territory,” Miss Thally continued. She examined her painted red nails for a beat before looking up. “The next time you try a little stunt like the one you attempted tonight, I suggest you avoid entering my domain in a coach worth more than most of this neighborhood’s buildings.”

Maximilian turned pink, and Vesper felt her own face warm too. She thought of the young men she’d seen as they entered Shalescreek and shook her head. How could she have been so foolish?

“As for you, Mr. Kite.” At last Miss Thally turned her attention to the sorcerer. “I’m quite aware of who you are and who your family is too. While I do appreciate your own attempts here, your costume isn’t quite right. I suspect it’s the shoe polish.”

Maximilian looked properly affronted, but Vesper shot him a warning look. Miss Thally offered a sweet smile so reminiscent of the one Vesper had seen at the farmer’s market that it gave her chills. “Now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way…” The old woman began shuffling papers on her desk. “Perhaps now the two of you might tell me why a reporter and a coal magnate are so interested in a dead inventor that they’d make the foolish decision to come onto my turf and start asking odd questions?”

“We’re trying to figure out who killed Francis Gladwell,” said Vesper. “I spoke to a source, and they mentioned that he came into a lot of money in the year before he died. They also implied that Francis might have been…” Vesper hesitated. “Uh, affiliated with the Rousers.”

At this, Miss Thally threw her head back, laughed, then nodded at the door. “I assume Richard already told you this, but Frankie certainly wasn’t one of us. That boy was a lot of things, but a gangster he was not. He expressed no interest in joining our ranks. Even if he had though, we’d never have taken him.”

“Why?” Vesper asked.

Miss Thally gave her a curious look. “For one, Frankie never had the stomach for the real dirty work,” she said. “But it was more than that. He was a loud, careless man. He had all the finesse and tact of a bull in a china shop. There’s no room for men like that in my operation.”

Vesper frowned. “But if Francis wasn’t trying to join the Rousers, then how did he know you?”

Miss Thally sat back in her chair. “He didn’t know us. He was trying to get us to invest in that ridiculous machine of his.”

Vesper swallowed. “And you weren’t interested?”

Miss Thally shrugged. “I might have been, if the man had spoken with any kind of sense.”

“What do you mean?”

Miss Thally sighed. “I granted Francis’s request for an in-person meeting when he told me he had something that could be very profitable for the Rousers. He spoke about his machine for nearly thirty minutes before I cut him off. It had only taken me two of those minutes to realize that he had no idea what the hell he was talking about. He could certainly tell me what his machine could do, and he’d clearly practiced some lines about it being a generator and a capacitor, but when I pressed him on the real details of how it worked, he completely fell apart. It was painful to watch, actually.”

“So, you told Francis you wouldn’t invest?”

Miss Thally nodded. “And I told him that if he ever shared who really ran the Rousers with anyone, he wouldn’t have hands to play around with his machine or any other machine ever again. That was the last time I saw him.”

Vesper swallowed. “And when was that?”

Miss Thally sat back, thoughtful. “Three days before he died.” She met Vesper’s gaze and smiled. “But you have another question, I can see it in your eyes.” She inclined her head. “Go on, ask.”

Vesper hesitated, then: “How does a woman become the leader of this city’s biggest gang?”

The woman smiled. “In another life, I was called Josephine.” She nodded to Maximilian. “There are probably still a few high society people left who are old enough to remember my infamous fall from grace. Sweet Josephine Thalheimer, the last child and last hope for a respectable, old money family that has lived in Victerra since it was founded in the 1700s. I only had to do one thing to preserve my family’s legacy: marry.” She smiled sadly, as though remembering. “I had every intention of doing what a young respectable woman of high society is born to do, until I learned about the coverture laws.” She looked at Vesper. “You know all about them, I’m sure.”