«Cute. Real cute. Now what?»
«And here I was hoping you'd have a suggestion. Ah, but never mind. Here comes Sir Rudy now, carrying a lovely yet far-from-priceless silver tea service. «Shall we ask him what he has that might appeal to a thief?»
«Do we call him over and ask him quietly, or do you want to have a full Saint Just gathering-of-the-suspects scene? You're sure dressed for the part.»
«I'll take that as a compliment, thank you. But I'm afraid the dramatic denouement will have to wait until we know more, so I'll make my inquiries as discreetly as possible. Excuse me.»
«Not so fast, Sherlock.» Maggie uncrossed her legs and made to stand up, nearly coming to grief as she momentarily became tangled in the blankets. «I want to come along.»
«As if there was a doubt in my mind,» Saint Just said, offering his hand as she stepped out of the blankets. «You'll be discreet?»
«You think I won't be? You think I'll just ask Sir Rudy if he's got anything worth stealing?»
«That is what we want to know.»
«Okay. Just remember, you said it,» she said, grinning at him as they came to a halt alongside Sir Rudy and the clinging Marylou, whose eyes had gone as huge as saucers a good hour ago and remained so now, leaving the impres-sion she probably had not so much as blinked in the interim.
Marylou gawked at Saint Just. «You really touched her? You know, Joanne? How can you do that? Touch a body, I mean? I'm so scared. I told Rudy, he doesn't leave me for a minute until the cops get here. If I have to pee , he comes with me.»
«Charming,» Saint Just said with a slight bow. «Sir Rudy? This is awkward, at best, but Maggie and I would very much appreciate it if you would answer a few questions for us.»
«Questions?» Marylou released her two-handed grip that had been clutching Sir Rudy at the elbow, and took two quick steps away from him, as if divorcing herself from her association with the man. «You think Rudy did it?»
«Not at all,» Saint Just assured her. «Sir Rudy?»
The older man nodded his agreement, then said, «You want me to tell you who I think did it? Because I think it's that Troy fellow over there. Nobody's that dumb, right? And he's an actor. Actors can act dumb. Act dumb, act smart. Besides, he keeps accusing everyone else. That's a sure sign, don't you think?»
«Oh, brother…»
«Tch-tch, Maggie,» Saint Just scolded, careful not to smile. «Everyone's opinion holds equal weight. Although I have as yet to ascertain a motive for either murder, Sir Rudy. Which, as it happens, brings me back to you. Maggie and I, amateur sleuths, to be sure, have been playing with possibilities, and it has occurred to us that, perhaps, there could have been a calculated effort to—»
«Oh, for God's sake. Some time tonight, Alex, okay?» Maggie interrupted, then poked a finger toward their host. «Do you have anything here worth stealing, Sir Rudy?»
«Worth? Do I? Well, of course I do. This whole place is littered with valuables. The furniture, for one. Dead old, all of it, and no more comfortable than a church pew, so it has to be valuable.»
«Yes, and it is all quite lovely,» Saint Just said before Maggie could interrupt again. «However, we were thinking of something rather more portable . The art, for example. Paintings, in particular. I have not had the pleasure of a complete tour, unfortunately, so I wondered if you may have a Rembrandt, for instance, in your possession? A da Vinci? A Botticelli? Two? Three? More? Or perhaps some fine Chinese pots? A collection of rare jade?»
Sir Rudy shook his head. «Afraid not. None of those things. The old girl sold that stuff off piecemeal years ago to keep this pile running. She'd made a good start on the silver, too, but then she died. Lucky for me. Why? You think somebody's here to rob me? I thought somebody was here to kill people. There are dead people, you know. I saw them.»
«He sees dead people,» Maggie said quietly, turning her face into Saint Just's sleeve. «Ready to punt back to me yet, sport?»
«Shhh,» Saint Just warned quietly, although he, too, was rather amused. «Sir Rudy,» he said, trying again. «Let me proffer another question, if I might? Did Miss Pertuccelli happen to visit Medwine Manor before arriving here to film the movie?»
Sir Rudy shook his head, dashing yet another possibility. «No. We met in London, as a matter of fact. Lucky for me, or so I thought at the time. Only up there for the day, you understand, to see my banker, and we met by chance, in a restaurant. Pricey place. I'll not go there again. Pay the earth and barely get two bites of food. Ate better when I was poor.»
«So you met at a restaurant in London, entirely by chance?»
«I said that, didn't I?» Sir Rudy asked, frowning at Marylou, who was still regarding him much like a leper.
«She was wearing red, my favorite color. Package the Medwine Marauder in red, you know? She was sitting at the next table, as alone as I was, and we struck up a conversation. People do that, you know. Next thing I knew, she was telling me about her movie, and I was telling her how I've always wanted to have a movie filmed here. Not that I always wanted that. I only own this place less than a year. But once I thought of the idea, I was sure I'd always wanted to. All those lovely American actresses cavorting about the place in their skimpy clothes.»
«All right. Thank you, Sir Rudy. Oh, and if I might have my cell phone? We'll probably all be leaving here in the morning, and I wouldn't wish to forget it in the rush.»
Sir Rudy fished in his pocket and handed over the cell phone. «Here you go. Is there anything else you want to know?»
«Oh, right. Thanks, Sir Rudy,» Maggie said brightly. «We'd like a ladder. Do you have one?»
«A ladder? What for? You two planning on climbing out a window? You'd just land in the water, like everyone else. You'd want a ladder to go up, not down. But I've got stairs. I've got more stairs than you'll ever need.»
Saint Just was finding whole new worlds of meaning in the phrase «like pulling teeth.»
«We would like the ladder, Sir Rudy, in order to get a closer look at the mural on the grand staircase, if you don't mind. You see, there's a diagram of the floor plan of this house and—»
«Sure, sure, I know that. Four of them, actually, one in each corner, not that you can see the ones up-top without binoculars. But you don't need a ladder for that. I've got drawings in my study, along with all those histories I told you about. Laid everything out on a table. Didn't I tell you about the histories? Being a writer, too, young lady, I would have thought you'd taken a look.»
Saint Just smiled. If one waits long enough, most everything comes to one. «You said 'too,' Sir Rudy. Does that mean Sam Undercuffler did look at the histories you keep in your study? Perhaps saw the floor plans?»
«I don't know what all he looked at. He was in there for hours—that was before you people got here. Told you, nothing much to do around here in the rain,» Sir Rudy said, shrugging. «But you don't need a ladder. I know that.»
«Thank you, Sir Rudy, you've been an enormous help,» Saint Just said, taking hold of Maggie's elbow and leading her toward the doorway, pausing only to pick up two of the larger flashlights and hand one to her.
«You're carrying your cane again,» she said as they made their way to the study. «You looked sort of naked without it.»
«And felt so, to be truthful about the thing,» Saint Just told her smoothly. «It's much easier to carry a flashlight and cane than to lug one of those oil lanterns about everywhere. So? What do you think Undercuffler discovered in the study?»