you not to speak to me like I was your damned child?”
Nostrils flaring, she ducked her head. “Keep your voice down, you fool. The media could be here.”
“Then you’ll love not making a scene,” he replied, cheerful. “Daniel and Devon are my guests, and you will now shut the hell up.”
In another world, Humphrey would have made a great addition to the Codex team. Sam and Freya hovered in the periphery. I held my palm out below my waist, flat as in stay. With a curt nod, Sam turned slightly and pretended to point something out to Freya.
“Never mind,” Eudora said, eyeing Sloane and me like a particularly tasty lunch. “You’re not the fool, Humphrey. These two are, since apparently they care not at all about their own personal safety.”
“Sorry for dumping that martini on you last night,” Sloane said. “Bill me if you can’t get the stain out.”
I hid a smile behind my hand. Watched Eudora turn flame red before spinning on her heel and leaving. The guards followed, but in no way did I think we were safe to move about.
“Is that what this is all about?” Humphrey asked. “You stained her dress?”
“I have no idea,” Sloane said. “Does she usually physically threaten people?”
He stroked his beard in thought. “Yes, she does.”
“What a leader,” I said. “No wonder you all miss Bernard.”
“Now that’s a leader,” Humphrey said. “Oh, is that a diary I see?”
Humphrey and Reggie rushed back to the glass while Sloane and I had a moment alone. With a conspiratorial look, she shifted back into the crowd, dragging me with her. As casually as we could, we pushed the boundaries of what was available to us, peered into hallways and calculated guards-per-exits. Watched James and Eudora conferring, watched the Sherlock Society members stare at the glass table. All of it went into a mental catalog for later discussion, but I felt frustrated that we still couldn’t figure out how this plan to steal these papers might go down—or if there was even a plan at all.
I had one eye trained on Freya and Sam throughout our wandering. Eventually the four of us converged, in front of Doyle’s diary and close enough to Humphrey to feel his protection. I nodded again at my team—concealed a smile at their disguises.
“Evening,” I said to Sam.
“Hello,” he replied. Directly behind us stood a group of people speaking in excited tones and whispers, pressing against our backs to view the antiques. I knew all four of us were listening, could feel our focused energy. There was rapid discussion of what was found, the legacy of the family, the auction house, the potential bidders, tomorrow’s event.
And then—new people must have arrived. We could hear names and greetings. More pressing against us to see the items. Something rooted me to the spot, a name I’d caught that set my teeth on edge.
“So sorry,” a voice said. “I didn’t quite catch your names?”
There was a pause. My pulse spiked. I strained to hear again what the man had said.
“Julian,” was the reply. “Julian King. And this is my business partner Birdie Barnes.”
39
Abe
Only years of rigorous training kept Sam, Freya, and me from outwardly reacting to the names Julian and Birdie. My first thought was an unprofessional “what the fuck” followed by a roar of noise in my ears. I exhaled as slowly as I could, slid my eyes to my left to find Sam’s jaw set hard.
“You know,” I said to Sloane. “I’d love to get some air. How about you?”
One look at me was all it took. “Absolutely,” she said quickly.
Two people forced their way between my shoulders and Sam’s. The man tapped the glass, turned to his female companion. “Birdie, it’s just darling. Have you ever seen such magnificence?”
Sam caught my eye over Julian’s hunched back. We’d had no indication of Julian and Birdie’s whereabouts since Sam and Freya had assumed their identities to infiltrate The Empty House. We didn’t even know if they were real people.
Would they recognize the two people standing next to them, even in disguise? The two private detectives who had used their names to help arrest their circle of friends?
Slowly, as if walking away from a bomb, the four of us backed away, careful not to draw any attention to our movements. Humphrey was nearby, but we couldn’t risk drawing his bellow our way. I gripped Sloane’s hand as we kept moving, heart bruising my ribcage, breath short. Our measured steps seemed to take an eternity, and