Arthur’s hackles rose. She still felt familiar in a bad way, like he’d seen her somewhere he didn’t want to be. Political event, maybe. “Why?”
“Just curious that you associate with that sort,” she said, which put Arthur’s hackles up for an entirely different reason.
“Arthur is acquainted with everyone,” John thankfully cut in. “We’ve nothing new to share about Coney Island except for some fresh reports of scavengers. Ella can get you the file in the morning if you’d like. Come on, Arthur.”
Arthur followed John into the hall, their shoes echoing on the marble as they made their way back to the rotunda. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow,” Arthur said, as they walked.
“You’re busy tomorrow.” When Arthur furrowed his brow, John said, “You have to meet the ship.”
“What ship?”
“The ship from London.”
“Why am I meeting a ship from London?”
“To pick up Lord Fine.”
Lord Fine.
Arthur’s world momentarily shrank to those two words and he came to an abrupt halt by a column beneath the rotunda’s soaring dome. “Come again?”
John stopped too. “Wesley Collins, the Viscount Fine,” he said, with a touch of impatience. “The ex-military British peer you’re escorting to Walter’s wedding on Saturday. We just talked about this in the club—you haven’t already forgotten, have you?”
“You didn’t say his name before.”
“I’m sure I did.”
“You didn’t,” Arthur said, through gritted teeth, “because I assure you,I would have remembered.”
“Oh.” John shrugged. “Well, now you have the man’s name. He’s rather a big score for Walter to have at his wedding, so get Fine yourself and be excruciatingly polite. You’re taking him to his lodgings at the Waldorf and anywhere else he wants to go.” He paused, then tapped his own face. “Your eye is twitching, you know. Just here.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, like it could stem the tide of emotions rising in the back of his throat. “We’ll talk soon,” he promised, already grabbing for the keys in his pocket.
He needed Jade. Because he’d faced down enemy troops and even torturers, but this was Wesley.
Chapter Thirteen
Arthur drove straight to the Magnolia, parking his Cadillac in an alley two blocks down before heading toward the green-awninged deli. The abandoned tobacco shop was silent from the street, thanks to whatever sound barrier Jade’s brother Benson had engineered, but a police car was parked on the sidewalk a few storefronts up.
Arthur narrowed his eyes and walked up the block to the Packard. The officer in the passenger seat leaned out as he approached. “You lost?” he said, with genuine concern, eying Arthur from his hat to his shoes.
“Thank goodness you’re here, I’ve been looking for the police,” Arthur said. “I saw a very shifty-looking fellow on Madison Avenue.”
“What, close to here?”
“Oh no, nowhere near Harlem,” Arthur said breezily. “Much farther down.”
The officers exchanged looks.
“You’re going to investigate, of course?” Arthur said. “He gave my mother quite the shock. She’d be ever so upset to hear the police couldn’t be bothered to see that she’s safe.”
The officer in the driver’s seat made a sour face but straightened up. “Aye, we’ll take a look.”
Arthur gave them Mansfield’s old address and a story about a white man with a goatee raiding trash cans, then watched with impatience until they’d driven away before heading back down to the tobacco shop.
The bouncer took him through the abandoned shop and into the Magnolia, where three-quarters of the tables were already full. At the bar was Jade, dressed in a drapey blouse and high-waisted, wide-legged trousers. She was speaking with Mack the bartender, but as soon as she saw him, she was coming his way.
“Are you all right?” She took his hands, tilting her head back, her soft brown eyes searching his face. “You really think John—”
