Wesley turned back to the view, taking a drag from the drugstore cigarette as Arthur came forward to join him against the rail. Arthur had always had a weakness for this side of Wesley, the man who could have bought the finest cigar for sale in the Waldorf’s lobby, but in private still chose the cheap cigarettes he’d smoked with the enlisted in the army.
“I thought you were planning to break the habit.”
“The detective gave me his pack.” Wesley exhaled smoke, filling the air with the acrid, stale smell of low-grade tobacco. “We don’t have this brand in London. It’s positively vile. I’m having a case shipped home.”
Arthur smiled faintly, but it faded almost instantly. “I’m sorry about Chester.”
Wesley shrugged. “Me too. He was a decent valet; it will be a terrible nuisance to replace him.”
“The man is dead, Wes,” Arthur said, although based on Rory’s vision, Chester was far from an innocent bystander in the paranormal realm.
“And it was bloody inconsiderate of him to get offed in America. At a library, for crying out loud.”
Arthur stood next to him at the balcony, watching the thick traffic below on Fifth Avenue, the fumes mixing with Wesley’s cigarette. “Do you know why he was there?” he said carefully, feeling like a complete cad to be feeling Wesley out to see how much he knew.
But Wesley just snorted. “No idea. Probably went looking for more liquor.”
“What, the Magnolia wasn’t enough?”
“It certainly wasn’t for you. You left without even bothering to let me know.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware I owed you an accounting of my movements.”
“Apparently nobody does, and then people end up mauled outside libraries.”
So that’s how the police were interpreting Chester’s murder. “Did the detective give you any trouble?”
“Well, I’m not a tiger, so no.” He glanced at Arthur. “I didn’t mention the speakeasy. They think an animal escaped from a zoo. Frightful way to go.”
Arthur doubted very much the police would find any animals unaccounted for at the Central Park or Bronx zoos, but at least it was a cover story. “John will be relieved the aldermen won’t be facing a diplomatic international incident. Still terrible, murders like that.”
Wesley held out the cigarette to Arthur. “Any chance you might stop carrying on like a girl if you’ve got something else to occupy your mouth?”
Arthur gave him flat stare.
“Oh, of course. You refuse to smoke. I’d forgotten your sentiment and other childish traits.” Wesley brought the cigarette back to his lips. “I bet you still remember everyone else in the wedding party from your London days.”
“I knew all your friends.”
He blew out more smoke, carried momentarily by the wind before it disappeared into the city. “That made things easy, didn’t it? I never got questioned about you.”
Ithadbeen easy to hide together, in ways Arthur would never be able to hide with Rory. No one had ever thought it strange that Wesley and Arthur spent so much time in each other’s company, and they were welcome in each other’s social circles. Wesley would never have to sleep in a staff room in Harry’s basement; Harry would probably give him the nicest guest room and make Arthur sleep on the third floor.
Arthur looked down at Fifth Avenue again, the taxis pressed in too close to each other, a white man with a white woman on his arm, hurrying through the cold. “No one should have to cover up their partner like a criminal, not for race, not for gender. It isn’t right.”
“Life isn’t right, or fair. Just ask the poor sods with graves at the bottom of the trenches.” Wesley gestured with the cigarette. “Or, well. Chester.”
He doesn’t know what Chester was involved in. All he knows is he lost his valet.Arthur tried one more time to offer sympathy. “I thought we were done losing people we know.”
But again, Wesley just snorted. “Serves you right for thinking sentimental rot.”
Arthur bit back his retort and waited, trying to be patient, in case Wesley needed to talk about the crime. But Wesley didn’t say anything more, and really, what had Arthur expected? That Wesley would care his short-term employee was dead?
Arthur made one more offer. “If you want to talk, you’re welcome to come find me.”
He turned to go back inside, when Wesley said, “Wheredidyou go last night?”
To a man willing to trek groceries across Manhattan so I wouldn’t wake up to an empty kitchen.“I had an appointment.”
