“I prefer to think I’m a generous employer. I should think among the three of you, you might come up with one entire brain and find one worthwhile idea.”
“We looked all through the storeroom,” Beaver said. “We tried to get upstairs to search, but that’s when the man jumped out at us.”
She needed to find out who this man was. Perhaps he knew of the fountain, too. Perhaps she had competition.
Cassandra was on the right track. She knew that much. Max had provided her with the confirmation that this Tobias woman was where Cassandra should be looking. She had something to do with Atlantis or Max wouldn’t be sniffing around the woman’s shop.
She held up one of the jars she’d purchased. Something in this crème made women look younger. She’d already experienced it herself. But using crème wouldn’t keep her forever young, Cassandra knew that. She needed the fountain itself.
“Leave,” she commanded her men. “I will devise a new plan. In the meantime, stay out of trouble, and I’ll send for you when I need you.”
They all turned to go, and she caught sight of Johns’s broad shoulders. “Johns, not you. There is something else I need you to attend to.”
CHAPTER6
Max had just swallowed his first sip of brandy in an attempt to dull the pain when a knock came on his bedchamber door.
“A gentleman to see you,” his butler said.
Max frowned. “At this hour?”
“He is with the Metropolitan Police, my lord. He’s waiting in your study.”
Son of a bitch. He’d barely gotten home, and they’d already sent the police calling on him. They’d shot him; he would have thought that enough retribution for breaking into their shop. Not bothering to put on another shirt or shoes, Max made his way downstairs to his study, and upon entering, he found Justin Salinger standing in the doorway. Justin was a fellow member of the exclusive legend hunter’s club, Solomon’s. Max relaxed a little, knowing he wouldn’t have to come up with some story to explain his presence at their shop.
“I need your help,” Justin said.
“It’s bloody late, Salinger. Help with what?” Max asked. Normally Max was more hospitable, but the gunshot wound irritated the hell out of him. He knew Justin, but not well. The man was new to Solomon’s, so they had only met on a few occasions. Max came around his desk and motioned for Justin to have a seat opposite him. “Brandy?”
“No. My apologies about the time,” Justin said with a smile as he noted Max’s appearance. “It’s for an investigation, actually.”
“Here on official business with the Yard, then?” He flopped into the chair adjacent to the inspector. Perhaps Justin really was here to arrest him. “That little minx. Did they report me right after I left?”
“Report you?” Justin shook his head. “No, I’m here about a murder,” Justin said. “Five of them, actually.”
“Well, then, if you’re not here to haul me off to prison, I think I’ll have a brandy. Are you sure you don’t want one?”
Justin smiled. “You’ve convinced me. Brandy would be good.”
Max relaxed a little and poured them each a drink. He handed one to Justin.
“I have to ask”—he pointed to Max’s stitches—“what happened?”
Max shrugged as he returned to his chair. “I got shot tonight.”
“The little minx?” Justin asked, repeating Max’s earlier words.
“Not exactly, but close enough. I haven’t decided yet if she’s going to be worth all the trouble she will no doubt cause.”
“But you’re going to wait her out.” Justin smiled.
“Something like that.” Max took a swig. He still didn’t know what the hell any of this had to do with him, but at least the inspector wasn’t here to bring him in. “Five connected murders?” Max asked.
“I believe so. Someone’s after the crown.” He took a sip of his drink, then balanced the glass on his knee.
Max frowned. “What are you talking about, Justin?”
“The generals that have recently died. Have you seen anything about that?”