Susan chimed in, “I don’t think we should overreact, John.”

I didn’t reply, but I did note that neither William nor Charlotte expressed any concern about their daughter and their grandchildren.

William did say, however, “When we lived in Stanhope Hall, we never even locked our doors.” He looked at his zoned-out wife and asked, “Did we, darling?”

“We did,” Charlotte agreed, or disagreed, depending on what she thought he said.

I was actually glad I was drinking hundred-proof tonic because I was better able to appreciate William and Charlotte with a clear head.

Susan reminded them of why they were in New York, and said, “I am feeling so sad about Ethel. It’s hard to believe that she’s gone.”

Charlotte remarked, “The poor dear. I hope she didn’t suffer at the end.”

And so we spoke about the departed Ethel for a few minutes, recalling many happy memories, and, of course, not recalling that Ethel was a pain in the ass. Charlotte did say, however, with a smile, “She was a stubborn woman.” Still smiling, she remarked, “Sometimes I wondered who was mistress and who was servant.”

Susan reminded her, “We don’t use those words any longer, Mother.”

“Oh, Susan. No one minds.”

I noticed that William had nothing to say about Ethel, good or bad, and he just sat there, perhaps thinking about his father fucking Ethel, then Ethel fucking his father.

I thought this might be a good time to straighten out the mistress thing – about Ethel being Augustus’ mistress; so of course Ethel was a mistress, but not the mistress of Stanhope Hall. I mean, she was dead, and so was Augustus, so to liven up the conversation, I said to Charlotte and William, “I was going through Ethel’s paperwork, and I found the life tenancy conveyance among her papers, and that got me wondering why Augustus conveyed such a valuable consideration to two young employees, who-”

“John,” said Susan, “I think we should get ready.” She looked at her watch and said, “I’d like to be at the funeral home at seven.” She stood.

Well, I should save this for when there were more people around to appreciate it, so I stood, and so did Mom and Dad, who swayed a bit.

Susan said to me, “Mom and Dad’s luggage is still in their car. Would you mind getting it?”

“Not at all, darling.”

William already had his keys in his hand, which he gave to me, and said, “Thank you, John.” I guess that meant he wasn’t going to help. Well, then, I wasn’t going to discount the two million.

I went out into the rain, retrieved their cheap luggage, which looked like a bank giveaway, and hauled it up the stairs to their room.

They weren’t in their room yet, so I didn’t get a tip, and I left the luggage on two racks that Susan had set up. Then I went to the master bedroom, where Susan was getting undressed, and I inquired, “Do we have time for a quickie?”

She smiled, and asked, “Is that the alcohol talking?”

“Very funny.” I commented, “Those two put away half a bottle of gin.”

“They were very tense, and I think upset.” She observed, “But Dad seemed much less upset after the third one got to him.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

She inquired, “What did you two talk about?”

I considered telling her that her father had tried to buy me off, and I would tell her… but if I did that now, she might be upset. It was better, I thought, to have her think that her father’s better mood was alcohol-induced. And tomorrow, when she saw that Dad and I were getting along tolerably well – without the martinis – she’d be happy, and her happiness would spread like sunshine over all of us, including Edward and Carolyn.

And then, Sunday after dinner, or Monday morning, after the children were gone, and before Scrooge McDuck headed south, I’d ask Susan what she thought was a fair price for me to accept from Dad for going back to London. Well, I might present it differently, such as, “Your father had the nerve to offer me a bribe to leave you. I have never in my life been so insulted.” And so on.

After she got over her shock, I’d tell her he offered me two million dollars, but that I wouldn’t leave her for less than five. I mean, that’s serious money. I could actually live off the interest, as the Stanhopes did.

Susan sat at her makeup table and did some touch-ups. She said to me, “That actually went better than I expected. And I thank you again for being… nice.”

“It’s easy to be nice to nice people.”

She thought that was funny, but then advised me, “Cool the borderline sarcasm. They’re not that dense.”

“You think?”

“And do not bring up Ethel Allard’s life tenancy in the gatehouse.” She asked, “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t realize it was a sore subject.”

“You know it is.” She further advised, “You need to find less obnoxious ways to amuse yourself.”

“Okay. How about a quickie?”

“John, we’re going to a wake.” She glanced at her watch and asked, “How quick?”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

William and Charlotte would have blown the needle off a Breathalyzer, so I drove. I’d left the carbine home so the Stanhopes wouldn’t see it, and also so I wouldn’t be tempted to shoot them.

Susan, sitting next to me, was looking good in black, but she was in a quiet, post-coital, pre-funeral home mood.

The Stanhopes, in the rear seat of the Lexus, had changed out of their tropical bird costumes and were also wearing black, which made them look like buzzards. The car, by the way, smelled of gin, and I was getting a little tipsy.

I had no doubt that William had told his wife about our private discussion, putting his own spin on it, and now they were turning this over in their tiny, alcohol-soaked brains.

Well, three of us knew that we were negotiating for Susan Stanhope Sutter, who didn’t even know she was for sale.

Anyway, despite a long and draining day, and what promised to be a long evening, I was in a chipper mood. Maybe I thrive on danger, conflict, and bullshit. Plus, of course, I just got laid. And I didn’t get laid with just anyone – no, I had sex with Mr. and Mrs. Stanhope’s daughter, which made it so much more enjoyable. That’s a little perverse, I know, but at least I’m aware of that, and it’s really low on the kinky scale, and not worth examining too much.

And of course, if Mom and Dad were paying attention, they realized I was sharing their daughter’s bedroom. And if they had been lingering outside our door, they also knew why we were fifteen minutes late.

No one seemed to have much to say as I drove up to Locust Valley, so to liven up the mood, I said, “Let me buy dinner tonight. There’s a nice Italian place in Locust Valley that I haven’t been to in ten years.”

“John.”

“Yes, darling?”

Susan informed me, “Mom and Dad have had a long day, so we’re having a quiet supper at home.”

“Excellent idea, sweetheart. I’m sorry I missed that memo.”

“Now you know.”

William and Charlotte seemed unusually quiet, so I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw they’d both nodded off and missed my generous offer to buy dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant. I asked Susan, “What was the name of that place? Vaffanculo?”

She leaned toward me and whispered, “Behave. This is too important for you to screw it up with your childish humor.”

“Sorry.”

“You were doing so well. Can’t you control yourself?”

“I try, but sometimes I can’t resist-”

“This is not about you. It’s about Edward and Carolyn. And us.”

Susan, of course, didn’t know that I had some power over dear Dad now, but that power would disappear the minute I told William to take his offer and shove it up his culo. So I was looking forward to tweaking him for a few days, but I’d have to do it when Susan wasn’t around.