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“Ten or twelve thousand square feet, depending on if you count the garage and the servants’ quarters.”
“I guess people as rich as Annetta still call them servants.”
“Mostly, I think, they call them staff.”
“It’s just you, then, who calls them servants?”
“I call them staff, too.”
“Is there a ballroom?” Dino asked.
“I believe so, but I haven’t waltzed across it.”
“How old is the house?”
“Turn of the century—the last century.”
“Then they must have stables, too.”
“Maybe they relabeled them as the garage. On the other hand, they could have had cars about that time.”
“What was that about jazz?” Dino asked.
“Joan says we should look in jazz clubs.”
“Well,” Dino said, “this is a jazz club, sort of. I mean, there’s a jazz group at the other end of the bar.”
“Did you see Junior up there on the way in?”
“No.”
“Neither did I. That eliminates this joint from the list of jazz clubs.”
A waiter appeared, and they ordered a roast duck and a bottle of good red wine. And another drink.
Georgette stopped at their table to greet them.
“Georgette,” Stone said, “why don’t you stock Knob Creek?”
“We sell High Rock, instead. The owners are friends.”
“You couldn’t sell both?”
“If I tried, people might not order my friends’ bourbon.”
“You have a point.”
“I’ll send you one on the house.” She departed for other tables.
The bar area began to get very crowded with peoplewaiting for tables. Somebody cranked up the sound system a bit, so the jazz group could be heard better.
Stone peered through the crowd. “Funny, I thought I caught a glimpse of Eddie Jr.,” he said.
“Where?”
“Down at the other end of the bar, where the jazz is coming from.”
Dino followed Stone’s nose. “It’s pretty crowded down there.”
