If Gambol thought it odd that Fitzroy had asked for a recommendation for a private detective, he did not say anything about it, just as Fitz had not commented when the other man had drawn the business card out straight away and handed it to him. He had provided the detective, a man named Tambor (allegedly quarter-veela, but Fitz, being in possession of at least one testicle, could not attest to that), with all the information he had on the Maybe-Gallivan he had seen; there was little else the wizard could do but to finish up his business in Canada so that he might return home.

Curiosity had never been his vice of choice, but Fitz could not help but be distracted by what he had seen—and question if, indeed, he had seen it. After all, Nathaniel Gallivan was dead, had been for years. And the Nathaniel Gallivan he had known? Not a man to disappear, to abandon his family.

Tambor would surely tell Fitz he had been seeing things, and then the matter could be dropped altogether. A silly mistake, if a possessing one, and nothing more.