“No, we left a few minutes after we spoke to you and completely missed it. I have never been so glad that we left an event early. I still can’t believe what happened. I don’t get why anyone would want to hurt so many people like that.”
“And to Mrs. Cutler, too.”
“You’ve worked with her, Reynard?”
The redhead nodded. “She’s sent people our way for help, and her family’s donated to our projects before. You know how it is. We pass the same dollar back and forth and try to help each other out.”
“Do you know of anyone who would want her dead?”
“No, in our circles, she’s like everyone’s second grandmother. I mean, there are always minor disagreements over getting things done but nothing worth killing over.”
“The NYSSV has been breathing down her neck,” Theo added.
Bennett rolled his eyes. “They’re in everyone’s business.”
“Why is the Society for the Suppression of Vice bothering Mrs. Cutler?” Gwen asked.
“Most recently, the younger Miss Cutler did a lecture series on sexual education and how to use contraceptives through her mother’s organization. Mrs. Cutler has been doing this a long time. She knows people and sends those who need help to places she trusts.”
Beside him, Felipe could see the gears in Oliver’s head turning. Mrs. Cutler had attracted Comstock’s attention in how she helped women, but surely, his people couldn’t have attempted to assassinate her with magic when they put it in the same category of deviance as buggery and abortion. As much as Felipe wanted to pin it on Comstock and his ilk, there was no evidence that Enoch Whitley cared about anything beyond himself and his books. The Society for the Suppression of Vice cared about many things, but book theft was low on the list. No,the attacks on Whitley, Cutler, and the people at the bazaar were all caused by curses, so they had to be connected.
Theo cleared his throat. “Galvan, I was wondering if you could let Mr. DeSanto know that I’m looking for him. I think he might be avoiding me.”
“What do you mean? I told him I was going to ask your help, and he seemed excited.”
“That’s odd. I’ve tried several times to catch him at work or in his apartment, but I can’t seem to find him. I went to the development lab Tuesday afternoon, and Mrs. Fleischer said he left in the middle of the day and hadn’t come back. I left a note there and even slipped one under his door, but I haven’t heard anything. I assumed he was avoiding me.”
“I even went back a few times yesterday to see if he was stuck in furs in his apartment, but no one was there,” Reynard said with a lopsided frown. “I told some of the Brooklyn Pack to keep an eye out for a stuck werewolf just in case he’s roaming the streets.”
Felipe’s pulse rushed in his ears. DeSanto could have run out of work because he felt a shift coming on, but that was three days ago. He should have recovered and come back by now, though it would have made more sense to stay inside where it was safe. Something was wrong. DeSanto had been so desperate to get better. He wouldn’t have left the society completely before Bisclavret could try to help him. Felipe needed to find him.
“Oliver, do you mind if I—”
“No, go ahead,” Oliver said. “I have Gwen. I’ll be fine.”
Giving Oliver’s shoulder a quick squeeze, Felipe turned down the hall and headed straight for the photo development lab.
***
Mrs. Fleischer looked less than thrilled to see Felipe slip between the curtains into the dark room. He couldn’t blame her. More than once, he had begged to develop crime scene photographs himself when the other workers were too busy to do what he needed. As long as he didn’t get in the way and didn’t make a mess when they were short staffed, she let him. Mrs. Fleischer had a penchant for wearing bicycling trousers and masculine-leaning women’s clothing, and those were only heightened by her no-nonsense attitude. He wasn’t sure if she was like Gale, but she had never called herself anything other than a woman.
“If you’re looking to develop your own pictures, you’ll have to get in line, inspector. We’re still working through the charity bazaar disaster,” she said with a clothes pin tucked between her teeth as she hung up a dripping photograph.
“I’m only looking for DeSanto.”
“You and me both. He hasn’t been in since Tuesday.”
Grabbing a handful of pins, Felipe helped to hang the photographs that had piled up. “Bisclavret said DeSanto left midday on Tuesday. What happened?”
“Beats me. I have no clue what got into him. I know he has shifting troubles, but it wasn’t that this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shifters like that get all twitchy and irritable before it comes on. I’ve shoved him out the door more than once when I noticed it starting. Purely self-preservation on my part. Can you imagine the mess a rogue wolf could make in here? Anyway, Tuesday, he was developing photographs from the bazaar case, and all of a sudden, he went white, dropped everything, and said he had to leave. I thought maybe he had stomach troubles, but he never came back.”
“How was he before all that?”
“Quiet, a little wan, but I figured he just had a little too much fun the night before.” Mrs. Fleischer gave Felipe a queer look. “You think Tony’s gotten mixed up in something, don’t you?”
