He pitched his voice to characteristic nonchalance. “Hello?” “M,” Celise said from the other end, “how wonderful it is to speak to you.” “You’re not Kristen.” “Is that what your phone was reporting? Technology these days. The world has been going downhill since the gramophone.” “Indisputably. Well, no harm done.” “While I have you,” Celise continued smoothly, “perhaps you’d be a doll and look into something for me? It concerns an old friend of yours—” “Friend? That doesn’t sound like me at all. A renowned misanthrope, I rarely leave the house, have no close acquaintances, quite loathe unsolicited phone calls—” “Rollo of the Laughing Eyes?” The line went still. “M? Have I lost you?” “What about him?” “He’s been making rather a ruckus in a townhouse near South Ferry Station. Of course, if you aren’t up to it, I’d be happy to pay him a visit myself, but it might end in a bit of a mess, and I couldn’t make any promises about the collateral.”
