“I was supposed to meet a friend,” he said carefully, “but she isn’t here. She’s in, um, your line of work, and I was hoping maybe you knew of her? Jade Robbins is her name.”
“I’ve heard of Stella Robbins,” said Alasdair. “One of the finest singers on the Eastern seaboard. I’d love to get her in one of my bars. But I don’t know a Jade Robbins, I’m afraid.”
Another dead end. Sebastian hesitated, then said, “Where areyourother friends tonight? The major and Sir Ellery?”
“Indulging in the other vice I support,” Alasdair said cheerfully. “Gambling. I’ve got a place with tables not too far from here, above a fabric and sewing store called Ace Up Your Sleeve, isn’t that fun? Do you play cards?”
“Yes, but I’m not very good,” Sebastian admitted. “Lord Fine is an excellent player, though. He knows your friends; maybe they would like him to join. Unless you think he shouldn’t?”
He waited, but Alasdair’s gaze didn’t go to Wesley. It didn’t leave Sebastian at all, just flicked from his flat cap down to the chain of the brooch in his waistcoat before returning to Sebastian’s eyes. “If Lord Fine would like to, he’s welcome,” Alasdair said warmly.
Sebastian kept the frown off his face, but nothing in Alasdair’s tone or expression gave any indication that he was worried about Wesley’s safety in the company of Sir Ellery.
“I hope you’ll stay a bit, even without your friend Miss Robbins,” Alasdair said sincerely. “I’m afraid I have another place to check on and can’t linger, but I’m putting your tab on the house. I insist,” he said, as Sebastian started to protest. “My treat.”
“Alasdair!” someone down the bar called.
Alasdair smiled. “No rest for the wicked,” he said brightly. “Maybe I’ll see you at the tables soon. I have a feeling our paths will keep crossing.”
Sebastian watched as Alasdair headed down the bar to talk to a pair of men in suits and fedoras. With a sigh, he picked his way around the crowd until he was back to the booth.
Wesley had a half-smoked cigarette in his hand and a cranky expression. “Any luck?”
Sebastian shook his head. “He doesn’t know Jade.” He relayed the conversation to Wesley. “Are we certain we believe Major Langford that Alasdair sent the letter?” he said, as he finished. “He didn’t seem to think you’d be in any danger playing tables with Sir Ellery.”
Wesley was frowning. “Maybe not. But for fuck’s sake, if that’s the case then we’re even more lost than we were this morning. I think we should talk to the bouncers. Maybe they saw Jade or the others tonight, and they just didn’t make it inside.”
Sebastian nodded. He picked up the tonic water and tossed back the last of it in one sip, and then followed Wesley out of the speakeasy.
Eddie was gone as they climbed the stairs, replaced by a tall and fit woman standing guard at the door. Sebastian and Wesley took the stairs back up together, emerging into the alley. It was unexpectedly empty—no cars waiting, no tipsy loiterers propped against the wall, no couples making out in the darker corners.
“Did the bouncers cut out early?” Wesley asked, scanning up and down the narrow space. “Where did everyone go?”
“I got rid of them.”
Sebastian and Wesley turned as one.
Sir Ellery had emerged at the mouth of the alley. He wore a three-piece suit as crisp as anything in Wesley’s closet, but now he had a gun in one hand, held at his side.
And at his other side was Alasdair, with his bright smile. “Sebastian,” he said, in a friendly manner, like no one was armed. “I told you we’d cross paths again.”
“Hello again, Fine,” said Sir Ellery.
Wesley’s eyes had widened just slightly, and they were fixed on Sir Ellery. “What the hell are you doing here, Ellery?”
Sebastian kept his eye on the gun in Sir Ellery’s hand. He wasn’t aiming at Wesley, but the instant Sebastian saw it move, he was ready. “What do you want, Alasdair?”
Wesley shot him a glance. “Alasdair?”
Sir Ellery cut in. “I want the pomander that valet of yours stole from my cousin.”
Wesley’s attention was back on Sir Ellery. “Sir Harold stole it from the Earl of Blanshard, who stole it from someone else, probably another relative of Sebastian,” he said testily. “It’s not yours.”
“I’ve got more claim to it thanyou,” Sir Ellery said. “Someone out there has offered a price for it and I want to sell.”
Sebastian stayed tense, magic simmering just under the surface. Alasdair was looking between Sir Ellery and Wesley with an interested expression.
“Probably in debt, I’d wager. Christ, can none of the aristocracy manage the money they had the good fortune to inherit?” Wesley said. “You want nothing to do with this business, Ellery.”
