The Grave Maurice

to the jade horse.

“Very well. You shan’t see me again anytime soon.”

“No, but I hope I’ll see that little jade horse.”

Melrose stood drinks for Diane and Trueblood later in the Jack and Hammer, rewarding them for the trouble they’d gone to. “It couldn’t have been fun, interviewing a lot of men like Bramwell.”

“Oh, it wasn’t bad at all, sport. Helped me sharpen my investigator’s prowess, my detective’s instincts.” Trueblood lit up one of his sunset-colored cigarettes and said, “For instance, the one who wanted to know what newspaper he’d be getting was a definite no. I mean, I don’t think a person who reads the Times is to be trusted as a hermit, do you? And the one who wanted to know what pubs were in the area, same thing. Got rid of that lot in a quick hurry. Then there were demands for days off, nights off, even half days and early closings. ‘Well, you’re not going to be running a hermit shop,’ I told them. ‘You’re not going to be selling bloody hermit souvenirs.’ ‘Awright, mate, exactly wot does this ’ermit fella do, then?’ I immediately stepped on anyone who asked what the duties were. Quite amazing some of them. You’d almost think”-Trueblood knocked off the ash that had been teetering on his coral cigarette-“that they’d never seen a hermit before.”

“They never have,” said Diane, running a finger above the rim of her glass as a signal to Dick Scroggs.

Melrose said, “The thing now is-how do I get rid of him?”

“Why, you just tell him his talents are no longer needed.”

“Fire him, you mean.”

“Yes, or just, you know, make him redundant. Tell him the war’s over.”

Diane arched an eyebrow. “Just tell him you’re finished. You don’t have to elaborate or explain yourself.”

“Isn’t it obvious I can’t fire people? Momaday’s living proof of that.”

“Well, yes, but Momaday’s ostensibly being useful. Or at least he’s in a potentially useful line of work as grounds-keeper,” said Diane.

“Wait! Wait!” Trueblood jumped up, nearly overturning everyone’s drink. “I’ve got it!”

Diane clutched her martini with both hands to avert further disaster. “Stronzo!” Diane liked to trot out an Italian expression once in a while since Melrose had come back from Florence. She didn’t speak Italian, but her accent was impeccable. It annoyed him to death.

“The answer to getting rid of Bramwell: Theo Wrenn Browne is the answer. His shop. You’ve seen that CURRENTLY HIRING sign he just hung in the window, as if he were some corporate chain, like Waterstones? If we play our cards right, Theo could be coaxed into hiring Bramwell.”

Melrose frowned, turned this over, then smiled. “Excellent! How?”

“There’s only one way to do that, old trout.” Trueblood now lit up a jade-green cigarette. “Make Browne believe I want to hire Bramwell. He’ll be all over him then.”

“This ’ere milk’s gone off, mate,” said Bramwell to Melrose, raising the jug from the breakfast tray Martha had fixed for him.

This person was being waited on hand and foot. Melrose ignored the milk and said, “Mr. Bramwell, you really aren’t suited to the hermit life.”

“I coulda tol’ you that from the beginnin’. But t’pay’s good.”

“I’ve found you a far superior job. Of course, you’d have to be interviewed for it.”

“Wot’s it pay? I gotta collect me dole money, don’t forget.”

Melrose pushed a hanging vine out of his face. He wasn’t interested in discussing government fiddles. “I don’t know precisely what it pays, but at least as good as this job, I’d think.”

“I’ll take it.”

“You don’t know what it is.”

“Well, it’s gotta be better’n sleepin’ rough in this lot.” He waved his arm around the hermitage.

“If you live in Sidbury you could easily commute. There’s a bus between Sidbury and Little Blunt.” Melrose had never seen this bus (he’d never seen Little Blunt, either), but he’d heard about it, as one might a distant star beyond one’s galaxy. He took out a small notebook (the one that looked much like Jury’s except Melrose’s was all leather and Jury’s was all plastic), wrote the address of the Wrenn’s Nest, tore it off and handed it to Bramwell. “You can see Mr. Browne tomorrow-and one suggestion: don’t call him ‘mate’; he’s not as good-humored as I am.”

Bramwell made a wheezy noise meant to sound like the end of hysterical laughter.

“Never mind, just don’t. Tomorrow afternoon. But first you’ll want to stop in the antique shop and have a word with Mr. Trueblood.” If Theo didn’t see Bramwell go into Trueblood’s shop, he would certainly see the both of them go into the Jack and Hammer together. Browne stood at his window half the day just to see what was going on.

Bramwell’s face was contorted with confusion. “Why the bloody ’ell do I want t’see ’m for? Or ’is shop?”

“Because he has a position open, too, and you might want to compare the two.”

“I don’t know nuffin about bleedin’ antiques.”

No, and you don’t know nuffin about hermits, either. “Just talk to him, will you? He’s right across from the Wrenn’s Nest. I’m sure he’d take you to the pub next door for a drink.” That, thought Melrose, was a brilliant stroke!

Bramwell thought so, too, apparently, for his frown un-pleated. “Yeah, well, I guess. Anyway, it’s time for me lunch.” He started to shove the tea tray at Melrose just as a cab drove up and stopped before the front door of Ardry End. It was too far to actually recognize the face of the man who got out, but he was tall.

Jury! About time, too. Melrose started off across the grass at a trot.

“ ’Ey? Wot about me lunch, then?”

Melrose threw the answer back over his shoulder. “Have your people call my people.”

“Who were you yelling at?” Jury was looking into the distance, his hand shading his eyes.

“Just the hermit. Come on inside!”

But Jury didn’t move while he pondered this answer. “Were you intending to elaborate on that, or-?”

“What? The hermit?” Melrose recounted the Bramwell saga.

“You’re crazy,” said Jury, as they walked across the lawn toward the hermitage.

Melrose stopped. “Crazy? Crazy? Do you see any sign of Agatha?” He spread his arms to take in Ardry End, its tower and gardens, its trees and paths, its hermitage.

Jury laughed. “You’re right there.”