“What’s all this?” Percy’s eyes widened with awe.
“This, my man, is the vodka shelf. Then we have whiskey, tequila, scotch, bourbon, and gin. The periphery there and there is lined with white and red.”
“What about beer?”
“Doesn’t keep.” John wandered down the gin aisle. His brother had always had a taste for liquor. It was no wonder he was dead. Gerard Ascariot had been a certifiable drunk. If that explosion hadn’t killed him, booze would have.
John sniffed with condescension and pulled a lovely cobalt blue glass bottle off the shelf. “This’ll do.”
“What’s that?” Percy approached him curiously.
“Gin. Blends with most everything. You can hardly taste it.”
“It looks like water.”
“Good gin does.” John agreed, opening the bottle. Percy felt a little thrill as he watched the man ex
