Free The Juliet by Laura Ellen Scott Page A

acquiescent, subject to their hosts’ protection and mercy. The twinned grand staircases led up to a mezzanine floor with a gilt-railed balcony under which two carved cherubs seemed to hover, holding it in place. This was the balcony from which Toby had attempted to hang himself only weeks before, but now Sailor and Toby stood there together, smiling down at their guests as they were admitted. The Stieg twins attempted to recreate their legendary effect: Sailor in a black beaver coat with his hair re-dyed and slicked into place, and Toby in a long, golden dressing gown (he was ill, after all). His hair was longer than it had ever been and almost white. Underneath the gown he was nude. He and Sailor had argued about that.
    The subtle detail: Toby had been eating red candy that made it look as if his gums were bleeding slightly. Sailor thought that was a good touch, so he ate some too.
    Unaccustomed to ceremony, Sailor’s daughters played on the stairs, both dressed in white gowns with lacy wings attached to their backs. The girls’ mother would not be attending. Sailor’s wife was of indeterminate European heritage, a strong woman who survived giving birth to the girls but resented the experience all the same. She was unable to shake off her dark ideation, and thereafter she was thought of and treated like a good cow.
    The lawyer Dellaire monitored the proceedings from a corridor busy with servants carrying trays of champagne. Several times he was offered a glass, and each time he refused. He didn’t drink on the job.
    When the main floor was fully packed with overdressed fat men, each with a glass in hand, Sailor rang a small bell he had tucked away in a pocket of the beaver coat. The sound quieted all, and they looked up. Pigglety heads sat back on stumpy necks like pies cooling in a safe. Toby whispered, “Should we toss them scraps?”
    “My darling, we are about to,” Sailor said. And then he addressed the guests:
    “My friends, we thank you for making our debut as hoteliers so special tonight, and it is our desire you will find not only comfort but joy within these walls. Mind you, we trust you not to be too literal in your pursuit of our family treasure; we’ve spent quite a lot of money on making these walls very pretty indeed.”
    His slight joke was met with raucous laughter. The guests were giddy, nervous. Sailor continued: “To clarify, we have, of course, mounted an exhaustive search for The Juliet while renovating this fine old building, and we have concluded that she is not to be found on any of the public floors. Not in the guestrooms, not in the penthouse, not in the dining room—”
    “What about the bar?” It was the old jeweler, Morecambe. He raised an etched tumbler of Pernod Fils to salute his hosts. Its contents dazzled under the light of several blazing chandeliers. The room erupted in more heavy-bellied laughter, and no one save Dellaire knew he was taunting the boys. It had been easier to strike a deal with Morecambe than it was to settle with the Stiegs as to which half of The Juliet would be presented as the whole. Ultimately, it was Toby who gave up his portion, which was then given to Morecambe.
    Sailor nodded at Morecambe’s joke. “Many a man has found his dreams with the assistance of la fée verte, but in this case we mean to assure you all that if The Juliet is indeed on these grounds as indicated by the message…” and here Sailor paused to allow the smiles to slip from all those piggy faces.
    Toby took advantage. “A moment.” The room hushed. He leaned in to his brother and said, “She is here.”
    Sailor nodded. “I understand.” One of his sweet little daughters dangled a chubby leg between the rails of the high stairs, and the other tugged on the hem of his beaver coat. He noticed neither, distracted by Morecambe’s sparkling tumbler of absinthe. It was too much liquor and in the wrong sort of glass.
    “His glass,” Sailor whispered. Morecambe was a fool to draw