Free Wayne of Gotham by Tracy Hickman

was raised there.”
    â€œOh,” Thomas said, “I’m sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be,” Celia shrugged. “I didn’t really know any different. Anyway, I’m a secretary over there now trying to keep the place on its feet. Martha breezed in one day with a check that set us up rather well and the promise of more when we needed it. One thing led to another, I guess, and we just started ending up in the same places accidentally on purpose.”
    Thomas glanced back over at Martha, who was curling up closer to Sinclair and whispering something into his shoulder. Celia stopped speaking, letting the conversation stagnate on the table between them and die.
    Thomas tried to revive it. “So do you like your work?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œNothing, really … I just asked—”
    â€œListen, I’m sorry—”
    â€œThomas,” he prompted.
    â€œI’m sorry, Thomas. I’m a little distracted tonight,” Celia replied waving her hand slightly in the thick air. The smoke in the room was settling thicker than a London fog. “A friend of mine’s gone missing, and I just don’t know what to do about it.”
    â€œMissing?” Thomas said, raising his eyebrows. “Who’s missing?”
    â€œLorenzo,” Celia said, biting her lower lip. “He’s just a guy I know named Lorenzo Rossetti. He vanished about ten days ago. No call. No postcard … nothing.”
    â€œThat sounds serious. Have you notified the authorities?”
    â€œActually, it’s probably better if we left the authorities out of this one,” Denholm said from across the table.
    â€œWhy?” Thomas asked. He had not been aware that Sinclair was listening to their conversation.
    â€œWell, because in his line of work it probably wouldn’t be very profitable in the long run,” Denholm said with a slight arch to his eyebrows. “I think he’s just away on business and he’ll be back when he’s finished is all.”
    â€œYou mean … you mean he may be involved in some nefarious activities?” Thomas said with incredulity.
    â€œOh, honestly, Thomas! You are such a square !” Martha laughed, her own martini sloshing slightly in her hand as she waved it. “Loosen up a little, will ya? We’re celebrating!”
    â€œAnd thanks for coming to my place to celebrate,” chimed the nasal voice. Thomas caught the flash of disdain on Sinclair’s face before he turned around.
    He was a shade under five foot six, barrel-chested, with large, strong hands. His head was shaped like a block, and he appeared to have no neck. He wore a black formal jacket, but the collar of his shirt was open and the bow tie hung completely undone round his neck. His dark hair in a crew cut of bristles from which his ears stuck out slightly. He looked like a fullback slightly scaled down, and he was young; Thomas guessed he must have been in his late twenties at the oldest.
    â€œHiya, Lew!” Martha beamed, raising her glass.
    â€œMiss Kane, it’s nice to see you again.”
    â€œYou know my friend Tommy?”
    The crew cut gestured for Thomas to stay seated. “It’s all right, Mr. Wayne. Don’t trouble on my account. Just happy to have you here. Moxon’s the name, Lew Moxon.”
    â€œThank you, uh, Lew,” Thomas said as Moxon pumped his arm. “Have we met?”
    â€œNah, but a guy would have to be blind not to recognize a Wayne in this town,” the man said. “I appreciate you coming and classing up the joint. You need anything at all, just call for Lew.”
    â€œGenerous of you, Moxon,” Sinclair said through a tight smile. “I didn’t know you kept up with the social set.”
    Lew’s smile chilled slightly. “Oh, I didn’t see you there, Sinclair … but then Miss Kane has a habit of taking care of the needy.”
    â€œWe all have friends,”