“I could ask you the same thing,” Wesley pointed out, as Sebastian joined them in front of the pharmacy.
“I’m looking for Sir Ellery,” Major Langford said testily. “We went out last night, played cards at another place Alasdair runs. I turned in after, but Sir Ellery said he was popping ’round here to see Alasdair and get a last drink. We were to meet for breakfast this morning, but he didn’t show.”
Sebastian just managed not to wince.
“He told us he was staying with the Hartmans, in their guest house,” Wesley said, expression blank and not at all like he’d seen Sir Ellery shot the night before. “Did you try there?”
“Of course I did. He’s not there either. Lady Blanche also mentioned her husband is weathering a flu.” Major Langford’s eyes darted to Sebastian and narrowed. “That’s all I can say. For the moment,” he finished meaningfully.
A flu—or an illness like Sebastian had gone through the night before? Could Sir Ellery or Alasdair have slipped something to Walter Hartman too? Alasdair had said it only worked on paranormals, but what was to say he’d draw the line against poisoning someone without magic?
Wesley’s jaw tightened, but Sebastian spoke first. “Lord Fine, maybe you and the major should have a conversation.”
Wesley’s irritated expression didn’t budge. “I’ve told the major he can speak freely in front of both of us.”
Langford smiled without humor. “Remind me: when were you put in charge of who I decide to speak freely with?” He turned back to his car. “I’m going over to the Hartmans’ home now, see if I can get some goddamn answers.”
Wesley again looked like he was about to speak. “Maybe you should go with him,” Sebastian said first.
Wesley’s gaze snapped to Sebastian. “Justme?”
“Someone should stay and finish our business here.” They’d found Rory’s ring; they needed to follow that lead, but if someone in the Hartman home had been poisoned, they needed to know that too. “We can meet back at the inn—the horse one, not the cat one.”
Major Langford gave Sebastian another long, suspicious look. Then he turned away. “Are you coming, Fine?”
Wesley turned to Sebastian.
“We need to know what he knows; we need to know why Walter Hartman is sick,” Sebastian said quietly. “And he’s not going to talk with me there. I’ll check Alasdair’s other place.”
Wesley’s lips pinched. “Fine. I’ll go with him to Walter’s home and see what’s going on, and then I’m borrowing his car and meeting you back in Tarrytown.”
“So it’s borrowing whenyoudo it?” Sebastian said wryly.
Wesley’s lips twitched in a grudging smile before he strode off toward Langford. “Major! I’m coming with you, hold up.”
Chapter Twenty
Wesley sat in the passenger seat as Major Langford began to drive them north. He briefly touched his inner jacket pocket, where the heavy lead box with Rory’s ring was concealed. “How far are we going?”
“About ten miles. They’ve got a manor on the mountain, overlooking the river.” Major Langford’s gaze darted to Wesley, then back to the road. “You haven’t explained why you and your man were in that shop. Getting outfitted for tonight? Going to the masquerade after all? Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Wesley frankly wouldn’t go to a masquerade under threat of torture, but he couldn’t exactly saySebastian and I thought we’d pop ’round to Alasdair’s speakeasy cover and look for magic. Instead, he made a noncommittal sound, which Major Langford seemed to take as agreement.
“Are you going to tell me what you were refusing to say in front of my business associate?” Wesley said.
“You’ve lost your touch if you can’t figure it out,” Langford said shortly. “You and Sir Ellery were here together in February—why? To attend Walter Hartman and Lady Blanche’s wedding. And now Mr. Hartman is ill.”
“You said flu,” Wesley said slowly.
“I have reasons to suspect it’s more than that.” Major Langford had turned onto a main road and was heading down it quite fast. “And now Sir Ellery’s missing. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, Fine, but I don’t like it.”
Wesley touched the pocket with the heavy ring box again, and didn’t respond.
They were soon beyond the town, but the shops had given way not to the manicured estates and sprawling homes Wesley had expected, but to industrial buildings and grimier streets.
Wesley frowned. “Major,” he said warningly. “This is not the way to Walter Hartman’s home.”
“You’re right,” Major Langford said. “I have to show you something.”
