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“And see if she’ll take some clothes while you’re at it.”
    She rolled her eyes and called back, “How about some golf clubs? I could slip in a few of those.”
    I grinned. “It’s not easy cutting back, is it?”
    “It certainly isn’t. This downsizing effort is killing me,” she said. “I don’t mind ditching the knickknacks, but it’s hard to get rid of my books. I’ve read them all more than once and treasured each one.”
    I got that.
    “If it’s any consolation,” I said, “they’re going to a good home. My employer collects first editions. I can’t afford that, but I have my own little collection. And every book in it gets treated like a fine first.”
    “That’s a relief,” she said with a wan smile.
    I checked out the other boxes of books, in case there were volumes we needed or with good resale prospects. Nothing wrong with funding future projects with a quick flip. I found some likely candidates and put them aside, before I opened the two Marsh boxes to check the condition of the books. I may have purred with delight as I inspected each book. I loved how the covers reflected the style of the era. Many of the Fontana reprints even had a charming little inset with a painting of Inspector Alleyn on the back and some details about him. “Educated at Eton and moulded in the diplomatic service,” I noted and in my opinion both environments had served him well.
    I checked inside and, sure enough, several had maps and floor plans of the grand house in that book. I loved that. Mosthad the cast of characters before the first chapter. I’d appreciated those lists when I first discovered Marsh. The device hadn’t lost its charm. I wished more authors would give their readers a break by doing this.
    I chuckled over the names in the lists: Cressida and Cuthbert, Nigel, Peregrine and Sir Hubert, Chloris and Aubrey, Sebastian, Barnaby and Hamilton, Cedric, Desdemona and Millamant! I thought they were all delicious. A new batch of names in every book. Of course, there’d be crowds of butlers and footmen, cooks and maids. Some staff would rate a name, but not all.
    I looked forward to meeting more of Marsh’s characters. Some would die in the interests of the story. In most cases, the death would be grisly and possibly bloody, but it would get our attention and teach us that this was a murderer who meant business and would stop at nothing. Ruthlessness can keep us turning pages. Never fear, Roderick Alleyn would put things right again.
    I was counting on it. I noticed Larraine grinning at me. “You seem to appreciate them. I hate to give them up. It’s like letting go of friends. So I’m glad you’ve discovered Ngaio Marsh.”
    “Rediscovered.” I couldn’t resist telling her about our luncheon at Summerlea.
    “That sounds amazing.”
    I grinned. “I’m lucky to be along for the ride. It’s all between my employer and Chadwick Kauffman. But I can’t wait to soak up that ambiance. It will be almost like stepping into one of the great estates in these books.”
    “I’m jealous.”
    “Don’t get me wrong. It’s work too. I’m one of the nameless servants on this character list.”
    Larraine said. “Did you say you collect first editions?”
    “Yes.” I was glad I’d left Vera out of the story, as she was generally loathed in our part of the world, and anyway, the Van Alst name might be enough to raise the prices.
    “Oh well, have a look at some of Doug’s books. You may find something you like.” A wicked smile played around her full, bright lips.
    I glanced up the stairs, where there was a certain amount of crashing about and huffing going on.
    “Don’t mind if I do.”
    A half hour later, I had another pair of boxes with hardbacks, including a few firsts in quite decent shape. A Hammett. A Chandler. Some John D. MacDonalds. Vera had all those, but I’d invest my own money and they’d make me a few pennies on the side.
    I could hear Doug carrying on about finally getting rid