“And to think,” Gerrard went on happily, “we each of us gets his own toilet!”

Agatha choked.

Moonlight and marble and toilets. Melrose marveled. It was wonderful not to have to do the work himself, to have someone else make it all up. Gerrard, he decided, should get another grand. Maybe two.

“And not to worry, Mr. Ruthven, you and your fam’ly, they’ll be all right.”

It came out “fambly.”

Delightfully, Ruthven took it up. “Master Gerrard, my own fambly consists of just myself and my wife, Martha.”

“Yeah, but there must be other maids and stuff in a place like this. And all that big garden out back.”

“Indeed, there are maids and stuff. There’s the groundskeeper. There’s even a hermit. I expect you’ll want him to stay.” Ruthven laughed a little as he poured Agatha another sherry.

Had she still been sober, Agatha would have grabbed up the cigarette-lighter gun and shot the kid where he sat. Then reloaded and made her way to London to pick off Ben and all the other Gerrards.

Gerrard was starting in again, and Melrose interrupted to avoid having to call Medical Alert and all of them having to go to the ER. “Well, Ruthven, I expect dinner must be about ready.”

“Indeed, sir. I’ll just see Martha.”

Who will not be out of a job when I pack it in, I’m glad to hear.

“Oh, boy, what’s for din-dins?” said Gerrard.

“The best food you’ve ever eaten.” He rose when Ruthven returned to announce dinner. “Gerrard would like to know what we’re having, Ruthven.”

“Beef tenderloin, m’lord.”

“Roast, is it?” said Gerrard.

“Indeed, Master Gerrard. With browned potatoes.”

Gerrard grinned and rubbed his hands together as he rose from his chair.

Agatha remained locked in her seat. Melrose wondered if they’d have to pick up the chair to get her into the dining room.

But, no. It was a struggle, but she made it to the best food Gerrard had ever eaten in the best dining room he would ever inherit.

PART V

Comeback

32

When Melrose walked into the dining room for breakfast the following morning, Gerrard was already seated at the table, his plate full of the offerings from the silver dishes lined up on the buffet. Indeed, judging by the heaped-up plate, Melrose wondered if there were any offerings left. Not that he really cared, as he didn’t himself eat most of the stuff there.

“Mornin’, Mel,” said Gerrard, happily.

Mel? “Good morning, Gerrard. I see the breakfast is to your liking.”

This flight into sarcasm was as present to Gerrard as a first-class flight on Emirates. “Lemme tell you, that Mrs. Ruthven cooks up the best breakfast I ever seen—saw. This here’s my second helping.”

Ruthven entered with Melrose’s tea. “Thanks, Ruthven. Gerrard was just complimenting Martha’s breakfast.”

“Indeed. Would you care for some more tea, Master Gerrard?”