“I do, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone has forgotten or deliberately avoided a meeting with the Society.” I returned my attention to the larger hall. “How many bedrooms does this place have?”
“Three—two sitting either side of the main hallway that leads off from that living area, with the master and the guest bathroom both on the right, accessible from another short corridor. The main living area is L-shaped.”
“Thanks. Can you wait there while I check the rest of the apartment?”
“I really should accompany?—”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Viceroy, but this may well be a crime scene, and the less people who enter the apartment the better it is for evidence gathering.”
He nodded, though his expression remained unhappy.Tough.I walked past the pristine study, with its empty bookshelves and spotless desk, into the next hallway. The bedroom doors were both closed, so I opened the one on the left and warily stepped inside. It was a relatively small and cold space holding little more than two single beds, a bedside table that sat between them, and several pieces of modern, overly bright artwork that at least added some color if not soul. The built-in wardrobe that ran the length of the back wall was empty. I moved into the bedroom opposite; it was larger, its color scheme warmer, but, aside from a queen bed rather than two singles, it was a repeat of the first bedroom.
The guest bathroom was all black and chrome, and very masculine in style. The mirror was large and set flush against the wall, and both the bath and the shower were big enough to hold a party in. Tane didn’t seem the type to do that, but Monica was, so why wouldn’t she have stayed here rather than hire a penthouse across the other side of town? She couldn’t use the excuse that there weren’t enough beds because there obviously were, and it was easy enough to Uber everywhere from here. Or was it more a case of her not wanting her father to know anything about her plans? While I hadn’t seen any security cams so far, I wouldn’t put it past the man to have the place bugged.
I moved on into the main bedroom. It too was overly masculine in design, which suggested to me his wife either didn’t have much say in the style or didn’t come up here often. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, however, so I moved on. The dining room portion of the L-shaped living area was untouched, the black glass dining table free of decoration and handprints, and the eight plushly padded leather chairs neatly tucked underneath the table. The kitchen, which dominated the midpoint of the room, was impossibly neat, which didn’t entirely surprise me because Tane did not seem the type to cook his own meals.
Sunshine poured in through the windows that lined the front of the building, and dust danced through the bright beams. While that would normally suggest recent movement, in a place this old, with high wooden ceilings and a mix of metal and wooden beams, dust had to be something of a constant hazard.
I reached the part of the room that doglegged right and paused. There was little more here than a giant flat-screen TV dominating the end wall, a large, U-shaped sofa, and a coffee table the size of a single bed. Between that and the corner window lay Tane Ashworth. On his back, unmoving, his eyes closed.
I ran over and dropped to my knees beside him, lightly pressing two fingers against the pulse point on his neck. It was there, a little too fast perhaps, but nevertheless strong. Relief stirred and I quickly scanned the rest of him. There was no immediate sign of injury—no blood, no broken bones, no knife or bullet wounds.
I tapped the earwig and said, “Control? I need an ambulance at Tane Ashworth’s address ASAP.”
“Is he injured or murdered?” the day controller, whose name was Betty, if I remembered right, asked.
“Unconscious but alive.”
“Requests sent. Keep us updated.”
“ETA?”
“I sent a priority request, and the system doesn’t seem too queued, so roughly five minutes.”
“Thanks.”
I tapped off, then said, raising my voice in order to be heard, “Mr. Viceroy? I’ve found Mr. Ashworth and called an ambulance—could you please go down and wait for them? They should be here in a few minutes.”
“Will do.” He hesitated. “Is Mr. Ashworth badly hurt?”
“He’s unconscious, but there’s no immediate signs of injury.”
“Good, good” came the response. “I shall head down now.”
“Thanks,” I repeated.
I returned my attention to Tane and found myself staring into silver eyes that gleamed with a mix of confusion and distaste. He blinked and, in that same instant, his magic rose, a thick, dangerous force that stung the air and burned across my skin. I had no idea what the spell was, and no desire to find out.
I quickly dragged out my ID and showed him. “You requested a meeting with me, remember?”
He blinked again, and the confusion and his spell dissipated. The distaste, however, did not. “How did you get in? What have you done to me?”
“The building manager let me in. I found you on the floor, Mr. Ashworth. Do you remember what happened? Did you fall? Or were you attacked?”
The frown lines deepened in his thin features. “I... I don’t know.”
“What’s the last thing you do remember, then?”
“I was sitting down enjoying my coffee while I waited for you. The intercom buzzed, I answered it, and that’s the last thing I remember.” His gaze met mine again, and the distaste got stronger. “It was you at the door.”
