“Ah, welcome back Mr. Calhoun.”

“Hello again, Felix. Is the lady of the manor in?”

“She’s been eagerly awaiting you Mr. Calhoun. She has retired for the evening in the guest wing.”

“Magnificent. Take my coat, would you? We shall call you if we need anything special.”

“Of course sir. Special indeed.”

Felix the butler shuffled off to the coat room with Edgar Calhoun’s long suit jacket. Edgar paced down the corridor to the guest wing, tracing an invisible line on the wall, under the frames of hanging Baroque oil reproductions. Out of his vest’s left pocket, Edgar retrieved his silver flask, embossed with EJC . After a generous dousing of rye, Edgar replaced the flask and ceased tracing the wall. As he turned the corner to the guest wing, Edgar caught the scent of Harlot No. 5, Andrea’s perfume.

As usual, Edgar removed his wedding ring and placed it in his back pocket with his wallet. Just as he was to call out to Andrea, Edgar heard two dinstinct female moans: Andrea’s and…

“Marla?!”