“I know that,” Paula said impatiently. “I’ve been down there already. But . . . Tonight?” The request had clearly thrown her off stride. Clearly, she thought Skeeter had taken leave of his senses.
He let his grin fade away. “Paula, we learned something tonight that . . . Well, let’s just say I’m not going to sleep very well ’til this is over. Sid Kaederman isn’t what he’s pretending to be. If we don’t trick him into giving himself away, he will literally get away with murder. And if we don’t stop him, it’ll be Ianira and Marcus on his hit list, them and their kids. And that’s just for starters. This is one helluva mess we’re stuck in, Paula. Believe me, I wouldn’t ask you to rearrange my face with a scalpel if it weren’t necessary. I happen to like my face, whatever anyone else thinks of it.”
Paula Booker’s eyes widened. “You found them, didn’t you?”
“Shh!” he motioned frantically to keep her voice down.
She darted a worried glance at her closed bedroom door. Like Skeeter, she was on the third floor, bunking in the servants’ quarters. Sid Kaederman, as a VIP, had been given the last available room on the “family” floor, one level down and at the opposite end of the house, overlooking Octavia Street rather than the rain-choked gardens at the back.
Paula whispered more carefully, “You did find them today, didn’t you?”
Skeeter nodded. “Yeah. They’re mostly all right. Once you’re finished rearranging my face, though, Malcolm wants to talk to you. He wants you to run a checkup on everyone, make sure no lasting damage has been done. Particularly Ianira. She’s had a rough time in London. Malcolm will explain all that later. Right now, I need that new face, so we can lay a trap for Kaederman. The sooner he’s in cuffs, the sooner we can all go home.”