Free A Real Pickle by Jessica Beck Page A

shortly,” she said, and Humphries backpedaled out of the room quickly.  Before Charlotte would allow us to leave, she turned to my grandfather and me.  “This conversation about how you two are treating my family isn’t over.”
    “Maybe not, but it’s at least going to be postponed.  That snack wasn’t enough to hold me.  I’m starving.”
    “Then follow me,” she said.
    Charlotte led the way, with Moose following close behind, and me taking up the rear.  As we walked toward the grand dining room, I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Curtis, despite the opulent surroundings.  Everyone, with the exception of Jeffrey, had just accused someone else in his inner circle of murder, and I had to wonder if we pushed Jeffrey hard enough, he’d supply a favorite as well.
    All in all, it wasn’t a very auspicious exit for such a fine man.
     

 
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    We didn’t fill much of the expansive table once we were all seated, but I was happy to see that everyone was present and accounted for, including Jeffrey.  He looked as though he felt out of place sitting at the table with the family, something that was reinforced when he spoke.  “Charlotte, as I said before, I’d be happy to eat in the kitchen.  It’s what I’m used to.”
    “Nonsense,” the matriarch said.  “My brother elevated your position from chauffeur to executor.  I’m afraid that there’s no going back now.  You will dine with us, as is due your new position.”
    “For goodness sake, Aunt Charlotte, if he’s more comfortable eating with the help, then let the poor man go,” Tristan said.  I knew that he wasn’t saying it to help Jeffrey, but to satisfy his own desire to have the past order preserved at the table.
    “I simply will not allow it,” Charlotte said.  The withering glare she gave Tristan would have been enough to melt a lesser man, but it just bounced right off of him.  “Let’s speak of it no more.”
    The china and stemware were all very elegant, but the first thing I noticed was the small brass bell beside Charlotte’s plate.  I couldn’t believe it when she actually picked it up and rang it.  Sure enough, one of the servers came out of the kitchen carrying a heavily laden tray of shrimp cocktail and assorted fruit cups.  She knew without asking what each member of the family wanted, and Jeffrey was no surprise to her either, since she winked at him discreetly as she placed a fruit cup in front of him without asking.  Moose and I were another matter, though.  My grandfather chose the shrimp while I chose the fruit.  My allergy to seafood made the choice an easy one.
    I took my first bite, and I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the blueberry delicious.  There was no doubt that this family spared no expense when it came to pampering themselves.  I had to wonder if that had been the case when Curtis had been in residence, but it was certainly that way now.
    Charlotte took a dainty bite of her shrimp, and then she addressed my grandfather and me.  “We ordinarily don’t have cocktails with our evening meal, but if it’s your practice, we’ll be more than happy to provide you with whatever you’d like.”
    “Thank you, but water is fine with me,” I said.
    “Do you have any single malt whisky on hand?” Moose asked.  I knew that he rarely drank at home, so his request surprised me.
    “Certainly,” she said, and the bell was rung again.  Moose requested his drink neat, and soon the brunette server named Margo showed up with a small glass of amber liquid.  My grandfather studied it in the light, took a deep breath as he swirled it in the glass, and then he took a small sip.  The smile that spread across his face made me wish that I’d asked for one as well, but it was too late now.  
    “Is it to your taste?” Charlotte asked him.
    “It’s perfect,” Moose said.  “I’d propose a toast to Curtis’s memory, but it’s bad luck to salute someone with just