nspector, you know.”
Mrs. Judd’s smile was now battery acid.
“I want my keys back,” she made me say. “Right away.”
“Aurora House is your home now, Mr. Cavendish. Your signature authorizes us to apply compliancy. And I’d get out of the habit of referring to my sister in those tones.”
“Compliancy? Signature? Sister?”
“The custody document you signed last night. Your residency papers.”
“No, no, no. That was the h
otel registry! Never mind, it’s all academic. I’ll be on my way after breakfast. Make that before breakfast, I smelt the slops! My, this will make a heck of a dinner-party story. Once I’ve strangled my brother. Bill him, by the way. Only I must insist on having my keys returned. And you’d better call me a cab.”
“Most of our guests get cold feet on their first mornings.”
“My
