“It would be funny if he’d left the whole kit and caboodle to the least likely of us,” Terrence said, with his customary grin. “To young Sam, maybe.”
Sam blushed bright red. “Don’t be silly, Terry,” he said. “You saw what he thought of me. I was the messenger boy. At least you got an office, even if you never worked in it.”
“Hey, none of your cheek, young fella,” Terrence said. “Some of us are not cut out for the daily grind. I’ve got the brains, others can have the brawn.”
“Then it’s about time we saw a demonstration of the use of those brains,” Joseph said coldly. “Frankly the way you’ve been acting recently would indicate to me that you have no brains at all—or at least no common sense.”
“Please, please.” Irene held up her hand. “None of this bickering. We have a guest and my father is not yet resting in his grave. Don’t you think I’ve had enough to upset me recently?”
Archie put a hand on her shoulder. “There, there, my dear. Do not distress yourself. Have another cup of tea.” He glared at Joseph and Terrence. “You should know how hard it is for Irene even to come to this confounded place. Every time she’s here it’s a reminder of what she lost. And now her father lying dead in the same spot. Well, have a little consideration please.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. I looked out at the sailboats on the ocean, wishing I were somewhere else.
“Mama, when can we start playing again?” Alex asked. “We’re bored.”
“And you’ll learn to show a little respect too, young man,” Archie snapped. “One does not play nor make merry in any way when there is a death in the family. We are in mourning.”
“Well then, shouldn’t we be eating gruel or dry bread rather than these éclairs?” Terrence asked. “They are sinfully good.”
“One day, Terrence, you’ll go too far,” Eliza said.
“As you and Mama have often told me.” Terrence deliberately took a big bite of éclair. “I wish that dratted policeman would return with some news. Was he or wasn’t he? It’s quite putting me off from eating a second éclair.”
“If he was, then you would be a prime suspect,” Eliza said.
“Me? What on earth makes you say that?” Terrence demanded. “I was always the soul of politeness to the old boy.”
“Even after he gave you that ultimatum last week?” she asked sweetly. “I seem to remember your language was quite colorful.”
Terrence flushed uncomfortably. “I didn’t like being spoken to as if I was a child.”
“None of us did,” Joseph said. “But Brian thought he had the right to lay down the law.”
“And he did have the right,” Irene said. “He created this pleasant existence for all of us. He worked jolly hard all his life so that we could live like this and it’s not right to try and run him down after he’s dead.”
“Nobody is running him down,” Terrence said.
Father Patrick stood up. “We’re all a little on edge, aren’t we? Brian was a fine man and at this moment we should be praying for his soul and reflecting on the good he achieved in his life.”
Suddenly Terrence got to his feet beside his uncle. “There is an automobile outside the gates. I believe the moment we’ve been anticipating has arrived. That pompous policeman has returned and now maybe we can all go home.”
The auto contained three policemen as well as Chief Prescott. One of the men was in the process of dragging open the big gate so that Chief Prescott could drive through. As the auto approached the house he spotted us seated on the lawn. He left the car and strode purposefully over to us. “Ah, good. I’m sorry to interrupt your little tea party, but I have news for you.”
“You do? What is it?” Joseph said. “Have you discovered that we were right all along and the poor blighter had simply drunk too much and fallen?”
“Not exactly, sir.”
“Then what, for God’s sake?” Joseph blustered. “Speak up, man. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer.”
“I’m afraid I’ll need your servants out here too.”
“Our servants?” Archie said indignantly. “What right have they to be privy to matters that don’t concern them.”
“I’m hoping that they can shed light on a few facts,” Chief Prescott said. He saw me sitting there. “And Mrs. Sullivan—could you fetch your husband. I’d like him to hear what I have to say.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” I said. “My husband has been gravely ill. He almost died of pneumonia last night and he is not to be moved or excited. You’ll just have to tell me and I’ll pass the news on to him.”
“I see.” Chief Prescott frowned as if he wasn’t sure I was telling the truth.
“My brother Patrick had to give him the last rites,” Mrs. Flannery said. “It’s a miracle he’s alive at all today.”