mischief in his expression. “There are better ways to get my attention. Better and legal, I might add.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” With great effort, I took a giant step backwards and nodded towards the pub. “Yet another coincidence. I was heading inside there.”
“Yet another lie,” he said. “If you followed me all this way, you might as well go in first.”
With a smirk, I breezed past him. Picking up a program on a side table, I read: The Importance of Sherlock in a Mobile-Phone World. The speaker was Humphrey Hatcher, who was Secretary of the Sherlock Society. Mycroft’s Pub was dark and cozy inside with a small stage, a large fireplace, and paintings on the wall. The pub had been transformed for tonight’s talk, and instead of its usual assortment of tall tables and bar seating, the room was clear and fully crowded with people. Eudora waved to me from a group of people, and I smiled and waved back.
Abe was peering curiously around the room. It was getting harder and harder not to grab him by the lapels and demand he tell me his real plans. Using a fake name, meeting with Eudora, befriending members of the Society… Had Codex been hired by another library to go after Bernard? Or was this a one-man mission? Because it’d be helpful to know if this sexy, sinfully distracting man was purely fascinating or actually my competition.
Before I could ask him another question, a red-faced, red-haired, burly lumberjack in his seventies came barreling through the crowd.
“Daniel Fitzpatrick,” the man boomed. He shook Abe’s hand vigorously, practically wrenching his arm off. “I’m Humphrey Hatcher. Eudora told me you know Bernard. A friend of a friend is my friend.”
Abe let out a startled sound, glancing sideways at me before catching himself. “Well… certainly. Although I can’t say I know Bernard that well. More of a colleague, an admirer if you will.”
“Bernie’s got that skill, I’m afraid,” Humphrey said. “He’s a charmer.”
Bernie? And also—friends? Abe caught my eye from behind Humphrey’s giant form, and I arched a brow in silent reproach. There was confirmation that this man was definitely sniffing around the criminal I was being paid to capture.
“And who is this gorgeous creature?” Humphrey gripped his chest like he was having some kind of attack. “Please tell me you’re a fan of our venerable detective.”
“Devon Atwood,” I said, receiving the same vigorous handshake as Abe. “And I’ve read The Hound of the Baskervilles ten times.” Unlike my name, that was not a lie.
“Praise be,” Humphrey cheered. “Truly, I’ve heard much of you Ms. Atwood. You’ve taken all of these gents in this room to tea, and yet you haven’t called me?”
“Well, I haven’t met you,” I mused, giving him a flirtatious wink.
Abe cleared his throat and stared at the ground.
“I’ve been traveling. My mistake,” Humphrey said. “I’m home this week and available to be enchanted by you.”
My answering smile was absolutely genuine. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Sorry, Daniel, I’ve completely forgotten you were standing there,” Humphrey said to Abe.
“Understood,” Abe said dryly. “Were you traveling with Bernard? How long have you known each other?”
Humphrey stepped close. “I’ve known him since we were ten years old. Went to school together, university, joined the Society together. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve stayed in touch through these events. And I drag him to the pub about once a month when he’s not too busy changing the world and bringing books to people who need them.”
In all of my research, I’d had no idea Bernard had a close friend. It seemed far too pedestrian—and precious—for a man so slyly deceitful.
“How charming,” Abe said softly.
“Do you know where Bernard is?” Humphrey asked, swiftly changing the subject. His worried voice carried in the hushed room. Eudora’s head snapped up at the words.
“Um… no,” Abe stuttered. Clearly as surprised as I was. “I do not know where he is.”
“It’s not like him,” Humphrey said, looking agitated. “We always talk. He sent me one email, months ago, letting me know he’d be on sabbatical and off the grid. Eudora assures me he’s fine but…”
I almost went to catch Abe’s eye before I remembered we were absolutely not working together. The urge was there—to tug on my earlobe or flash him a secret code. To get his sense of the situation. Strange, because I’d never, ever worked with a partner before and didn’t need one now.
“I’m sorry to hear you’re so worried,” Abe said.
Humphrey nodded, shrugging it off before checking a giant wristwatch.