He shrugged. “Just covering the bases. That’s four attacks related to the case.”

“I count only three, assuming Keeva’s is related.”

He gave me his oh-so-patient look. “Did you read the Guild file on Ardman?”

“Of course,” I said. He looked doubtful. “Okay, I read most of it.” He gave me the look again. “Okay, okay, I skimmed. I was bored. It was financial crap.”

He sighed. “Josef Kaspar needed independent verification that Viten was fey; otherwise, the Guild would have dismissed his complaint. He tracked Viten for a few days and made a connection. Your buddy Belgor.”

My mouth dropped open. “Belgor ratted Viten out to the Guild?”

“Hard to believe from such a paragon of virtue,” he said.

I let the comment go. Murdock used snitches as much as I did, but Belgor annoyed him. Since the elf didn’t traffic in the kind of stolen goods the human-normal judicial system cares about, it was a waste of time for Murdock to charge him with anything, assuming he had something. Belgor knew it and didn’t deal him any dirt. “He’s been working on something for me. This sounds like a good time for a visit.”

Murdock made the quick turn onto the elevated highway that would loop us back to the Weird. We pulled onto Calvin Place. The plate-glass windows of Belgor’s shopfront had been replaced. Fingerprints and streaks covered them and would probably never be cleaned if Belgor kept his usual standards. I was surprised he didn’t spray dust on them to fit the rest of the décor.

The little bell above the door rang when we entered. To all outward appearances, the shop seemed the same room full of oddities. While a certain amount of ambient essence filled the space-the echoes of times past in used wands or ward stones, the vibrant hint from a sealed jar of strange herbs used in potions-none approached the level of potency that normally lurked in Belgor’s merchandise.

The old elf stood behind the counter at the rear, leaning meaty hands palm down on the countertop. He didn’t look happy to see me. He never did. The feeling was mutual. We weren’t friends and never would be. Despite helping each other on occasion, our entire interaction was based on friendly opposition.

“You’ve cleaned out the place,” I said.

He worried his thick lips. “I cleaned up, Mr. Grey.” So his recent slip-up with the museum goods was forcing Belgor to be careful. He was immortal. He could afford to lose money for a while. That should mollify Murdock.

He hit me with a sending. They are listening. His eyes shifted to the curtained door to the back room. My sensing ability got an immediate hit of a Danann fairy signature, a Guild security agent judging by the strength. I caught Murdock’s eye and nodded toward the door.

I leaned against the counter. “We thought we’d stop by and see if you remembered anything more about your attacker.”

His neck wattles gave a little shimmy as he shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, Mr. Grey. My mind has been quite occupied with repairing the damage.”

I have learned that the gentleman who acquired the museum merchandise and the courier who brought it here were both paid by an Inverni fairy.

I trailed my finger through the dust on the counter. “Maybe you screwed her out of a deal?”

Belgor glowered. “Occasionally, my needs do not coincide with my clients’ needs, Mr. Grey. But I do not believe I’ve ever done anything to provoke anyone to kill me.”

Murdock snorted at that. If he hadn’t been a cop, he probably would have taken a shot at Belgor himself. I wrote “Viten” in the dust. “Maybe you ratted on someone, and a little revenge came into play?”

His ears flexed down, long, pointy hairs sticking out the ends. He looked at the name for a long moment before wiping it away. “A much more likely scenario, though I prefer to use the term ‘information-sharing.’ ”

Interesting. I did not find a name, but perhaps you have, he sent.

There weren’t many Inverni fairies in Boston, and Rosavear Ardman was the only one related to the Viten case. The idea that she was involved in attacking a slovenly stolen goods dealer in the Weird made my head whirl. “Maybe I have.”

I realized I had responded to his sending by Belgor’s nervous glance at the curtained doorway. I mouthed, “Sorry.”

“I assure you, Mr. Grey, as soon as I remember anything more, I will contact you or the Guild.”

I dropped a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks, Belgor. Sorry to bother you. We only stopped in because Detective Murdock wanted a lottery ticket.”

Belgor waved a hand toward the thick roll of scratch tickets for the state lottery. “What would you like, Detective?”

Murdock shot me an annoyed look. He’s not a fan of gambling, even if it is state-sponsored. He pointed at one of the numbered rolls. Belgor tore off a ticket and slid it across the counter. “Good luck, sir.”

We returned to Murdock’s car. He tossed the ticket at me. “The Guild’s got a babysitter on him?”

“Danann security agent,” I said. “Belgor came through with some interesting information, though. He said an Inverni fairy paid for the museum heist.”

Murdock pushed his lower lip out. “Ha. I knew something was up with that Ardman woman. After we interviewed her, I double-checked the Viten files. Viten used a different alias and glamour to hide his identity in New York. The Guild made the connection through financial records.”

I thumbnail-scratched at the silver patches on the ticket. “So?”

A sly look came over him, the one he gets when something clicks. “According to the file, Ardman didn’t know about the affair with Powell, but the other day she said she did. I thought it was odd but didn’t have a reason to follow it up.”

“Huh. I’m still not seeing a motive for the murders. What’s Ardman get out of it?”

“Maybe we need another visit with her, too.”

“I hope we have better luck with her,” I said. I held the scratch ticket up. We didn’t win the lottery.

A surprised Sophie Wells answered the door when we rang the bell on Pinckney Street. “Is Lady Ardman expecting you?”

“She should be,” said Murdock.

Wells looked like she was trying to decide whether that answered her question, but she did let us in. She led us into the parlor, then knocked on one of the pocket doors at the back. At a muffled reply, she slid a door open and leaned her head into the next room. I couldn’t hear the exchange, but Wells turned to us with a professional smile and pulled the door open all the way. In the next room, Lady Ardman rose from her desk.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

I kept my tone neutral. “We’ve received some new information we’d like to talk to you about.”

Ardman glanced at the secretary, who nodded and left the room. “What can I do to help, gentlemen?”

“It concerns the Met robbery in New York. We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on the situation,” I said.

The pleasant cooperative expression slipped off her face. “I thought you were here about Lionel. What would I know about a robbery in New York?”

I slid my hands into my pockets to look relaxed. Keeva was right about one thing when it came to dealing with fairy royalty — an aggressive stance rarely worked well. “The two seem to be connected. Some of the stolen items turned up here. The information we have is that the thieves were working for someone else. That someone paid a large sum of money for the job, and we have a strong lead on the source.”

Ardman sat on the couch. Turning away and not meeting the eyes is always a good sign I’m on the right track. “I don’t see how this involves me, Mr. Grey.”

I pursed my lips a moment. “Lady Ardman, two people are dead. A murder attempt was made last night on Keeva macNeve. You don’t seem the type to let people die who are only trying to help you. If you know something, you have to tell us.”