Disclaimer: Don't Know, Don't Own, Don't Sue.

Chapter 1

It was late for everyone else but still early for Bert when he strolled through the back alley and hopped over the fence, taking the back door into the bar, and seating himself near the fire. A vermillion haired waitress, half falling out of her clothes slammed a mug of beer down in front of him and smiled.

"You're later than usual. Good night?" Bert emptied the pockets in his grimy coat and pants, grinning from behind a curtain of greasy hair. "I dunno. You tell me." The waitress, who Bert only knew as Smith, bent over the coins and jewelry with crow eyes. "Aye," she agreed finally. "I'd say it was." He scooped the night's haul up again with dirty fingers and plopped it all back into his many hidden pockets with a quick smirk from his lean face. "Have any of the others been back?" he asked.

Smith leaned on her hip and sighed. "Yeah. Thomas is upstairs with Lila, and I think yer man Andrew is asleep already." Bert frowned. "Bastards, all of them. I told them to wait up for me." Smith shrugged. "It's not my problem. I gotta close soon. Are you stayin' or goin'?" He touched her collar bone lightly. "What do you think?" She grinned and locked the door, and went around turning down the lamps. Bert waited patiently, humoring her, knowing he'd leave as soon as she was asleep. She took off his jacket and led him by the hand.

"Jesus FUCKING Christ!" Gerard screamed. "If it isn't one fucking thing it's another." He exhaled heavily and sat down on a log on the path. He hadn't seen a carriage for miles, or at least not since he had wandered off the main road, and the hopelessness of his situation weighed heavily on his shoulders. It wasn't that Gerard hadn't been in hopeless situations before. He had, and had overcome them easily, without any effort. But when his favourite gloves had to suffer and be destroyed by the godforsaken forest, well, that was another matter. He took off his hat and smoothed his dark clean hair and polished his monocle, breathed deeply and began to walk again along the path, until it joined up with a cobble stone road. He stepped out onto it and headed north, towards the lights. As he walked, his step grew lighter. When a smooth metal carriage purred by him like a hearse, he damn near skipped. He stripped off his gloves and tossed them aside, and the lights grew brighter and brighter. He sped up his walk, and at the edge, by a nondescript whitewashed building, he paused.

The town wasn't a scum hole. Standing on the edge of its limits, it was even vaguely inviting. Not many lights, but it was blinding compared to the roads he had been traveling lately.

He smiled as he realized he was a stranger. He carried nothing. No suitcases, no food, and he had no shelter, no place to go. However, he had no need for such superfluous things. A few coins jingled in his pocket, but they were hardly necessary considering the thick wad of bills hidden in his jacket. The coins were purely to make a sound. He loved to be heard before he was seen. "Everyone knows first impressions are all that count," he always said. Well, he was certainly hard to forget. Everyone that crossed his path never forgot the colour of his face, the outline of his clothing, his distinctive strut.

He eyed the town with a mixture of distaste and amusement. "I could do a lot here, although it's not quite what I'm used to." True, he was accustomed to much better things, but then again he had come from worse, lived with worse, and, most importantly, risen above worse things. He could have some fun here. It wouldn't be worse than before, anyway.

He brushed some dust off the shoulder of his immaculate black suede jacket, readjusted his perfectly fitted top hat and crossed the line from complete desolation to modern civilization.

The moon hung high overhead. "Must be nearing midnight," he mused. "Perfect. Night time is the only acceptable time. No point in suffering under the blaze of golden death." Or that's what he kept telling himself. He'd never liked light much anyway.

It appeared everyone was asleep. "No insomniacs in this joint?" He clucked his tongue. "Don't know what they're missing." An old hound stirred on a nearby porch and raised its head curiously, eyeing the well dressed stranger with distrust. His gaze followed the man every step until he could strain his neck no more and finally relaxed and drifted back to sleep.

"Why the fuck am I the only one out? Are there no misfits, evil-doers, hell, even a fucking hoodlum around?" he said aloud. "Nah, just me," said a man's voice. There was no body discernable in the dark. Nothing moved in the shadows of the trees.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Who the hell are you?"

"Gerard."

The voice stepped out from behind a tree near the whitewashed building." The body of the voice was tall and lanky. Unimpressive. His hair was clearly unwashed even in the dim light, and hadn't been for some time. His clothes were ragged and tattered. Gerard was immediately disgusted with the severe lack of sophistication. 'And I've met the town bum,' he thought. "So why aren't you comatose with the rest of this place?" he asked.

The emaciated frame snickered audibly. "I'm not like the other people around here. Trust me."

"Trust you, eh? I don't even know your name."

The voice approached and his face appeared suddenly under the moonlight. Gerard was taken aback. He had not expected to see such a face. THIS face. It was rough and pained, yet oddly inviting and comforting.

"My name is Bert."

Gerard just looked at his angular face and dark eyes. Bert's face hardened. "My name is Bert, and this is my town." Gerard shook his head quickly as if shaking sleep and laughed good naturedly. "My dear Berty, if I may call you Berty?"

"I'd rather you didn't-"

"Bert, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a fellow trying to make his way, like everybody else,"

"Yes but-"

"My business was, shall we say, outgrowing my last place of residence. I'm simply looking to relocate."

"But I-"

"Hush, my friend," Gerard pressed a finger against Bert's lips, eyebrow raised, weighing his words carefully. "Whatever little life you have set up here, I don't plan to upset it. I'm not going to steal your wife and make you sell your farm or whatever. You won't have to relocate the kids. I'm just interested in setting up a residence so I may conduct my life in the PRIVATE matter I always have."

Bert's eyes hardened and he stepped back from Gerard. He said nothing, but his face was angry. There was something very wrong with the whole scenario. No one comes walking into town after midnight with no luggage, then proceeds to size the place up as he walks away from the nearest hotels and restaurants towards the hills. It defies all logic and it meant this 'Gerard' was definitely not a business man. And his touch was so gentle he- Bert mentally shook his head. Never mind that. Whatever Gerard was, Bert wanted nothing to do with him unless he could rob him blind, and he wasn't sure if that was even worth the risk of having him stick around. He would keep his eye on this one. Hopefully he was just stupid and rich.

Gerard watched him for a moment, admiring his fine nose and high cheekbones, and then sighed. "Well thanks for the greeting Bert," he said with a large false grin. "But I must be moving on." He reached into his pockets and pulled out the few coins. He wouldn't need them for now. "Here you are Bert, a little something for your troubles. Maybe you can afford to bathe now." Bert stared at the coins, and then took them. Gerard tipped his hat. "Cheerio then," he said brightly. He began to whistle as he strolled down the main street through the town, towards the hills. Bert watched him go, mystified at the good looking man in the well made suit.

When the bar opened in the morning, no one could find Smith. She had left no note, but simply disappeared. No one knew where she would have gone, and after a few days, everyone stopped asking. They told Bert she'd left town to go live with her father, in case there was another fellow. They liked Bert quite well and didn't want him to worry about her, or start looking for her new boyfriend if she had run off with someone else. Weeks passed, and eventually, the lie became the truth and she was forgotten.

The smell in the house needed to be covered up, but otherwise Gerard was settling in nicely. He'd discovered an abandoned mansion in the hills a short distance for the core of the town. He didn't have much need for such a large house, but it made a statement. It had four floors, infinite secret tunnels, high ceilings, and many places to hide. There were far too many closets, or so it had seemed at first. They were filling up faster as he became more comfortable.

Gerard sighed and sat down into what had become his favorite chair. With all the blinds pulled down he stared off into space and contemplated how to spend the night. So many options and so little time. First he needed a plan. Being unorganized was simply out of the question now that he had become more prominent in town.

Gerard thought about the character he'd met on his first night. "That Bert fellow is quite interesting. I'm sure he suspects, but what does that matter? I have more intellect in my fingernail than he has in his entire body," he said to himself. Nonetheless, Gerard could not stop thinking about Bert. He often thought about Bert, to be honest. There was something about that face that made him want to indulge. Gerard quickly smiled the thought away. If anyone needed to be left in the dark, it was Bert. He would be saved for a special occasion.

As he did every evening before he went out, Gerard took a walk around the house to ensure everything was still in order. He had hired three maids to help him manage the enormity of the house. He was above manual labor, and he needed some kind of company so he put an ad in the local newspaper. Veronica, Sarah, and Natalie had responded. All three were about his age. They were young, attractive, and eager to be working for such a charming man in such an exquisite household. It was no deterrent that the pay was obscenely high.

Veronica, by far the most naieve and pretty of the three, was dusting in the bedroom as Gerard passed by. He stopped outside the door for a moment and looked in.

"Almost finished, sir," she said with a dazzling smile.

"Oh, no need to rush. And please, call me Gerard," he replied with an equally mesmerizing look. She blushed slightly and continued to dust the surfaces of his cabinet. Gerard watched her move around the room for a little while before advancing towards the window. She had already raised the blind, but the sun was just about to set. "Whew, that could have been close," he thought.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Do you like working here?"

Slightly confused by the question, Veronica paused for a second. Gerard was staring out the window and did not pressure her to answer by turning his gaze in her direction.

"Why yes, I do. You have a lovely house."

He gave a small, fleeting smile. "Good, then. Because I certainly enjoy having you here every day," he said with false sincerity, still not turning towards her but fingering the expensive drapes instead. Veronica failed to notice the lackluster tone and blushed again. Gerard finally turned to face her. She could have melted under the intensity of his stare. She made a Herculean effort to remain at ease, but Gerard noticed immediately that she was tense. Mentally, he smiled. Veronica had returned to her dusting and was not aware of Gerard approaching her until he slid his arms around her waist.

"You know," he said in between nibbling her earlobe, "last night should be repeated. Immediately." Veronica said nothing, but she didn't have to. Gerard could feel her response. He let go of her and locked the door smoothly and silently. He walked over to the window and closed the drapes. "Repeated for the last time, unfortunately," he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said calmly. He noticed some fine red hair on the cuff of his jacket and picked it off with irritation. He slid the coat off and placed it delicately on seat of a chair. Slowly he turned towards Veronica.

"Now, then, where were we?"

Chapter 2

"But sir, what on earth where you doing out getting the meat?" Natalie asked Gerard. He smiled. "It was a gift from a friend. Now pop it in the ice box will you? There's a good girl. I'd like to save it for guests. And by the by, Veronica is no longer with us." Natalie did a double take. She had thought Veronica was his favourite. "Beg pardon sir?" Gerard regarded her coolly. He did not care for questions.

"Her work was sloppy, Natalie, and I don't permit sloppiness in this household. You'd be good to remember it, eh? In the meantime, just try and keep up with the extra work and I expect she will be replaced soon enough. Now put that meat away please. I have business to attend to." As he walked away, he smiled grimly. Sloppy indeed. He had expected better treatment from a girl with such a luscious mouth, and he had been disappointed. Her pretty little figure had balanced it out slightly, but she hadn't kept him interested for long. Plus, he highly suspected she had been stealing the silver. Ah well, he'd do better in selecting staff next time, he told himself. He collected his beautifully made gray coat and a matching top hat and stepped out in to the spring evening. He had calls to make and business to attend to, and he really could have used a snack.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this next invention is slated to appear at the world's fair in London next month! Created by a local inventor, Mr. J Peabody, this work-" Bert weaved through the tightly knit crowd. He had entered it thin, and he would come out fat. 'Idiots,' he thought to himself. 'This isn't even taking any effort. I'm practically reaching my hand in to their pockets and feeling around and they're so wrapped up in the damned robot, they don't even notice.' Bert slipped wallets, pocket books, broaches and hat pins into his jacket, and his accomplices were wading through opposite ends of the crowd, doing the same. 'This'll be the biggest haul we've had in months,' Bert mused. 'We'll feast tonight.'

As he grabbed and snatched and kept moving, his thoughts wandered to Gerard. It had been a few weeks, and he'd seen very little of the man. He lived up on the hill. He'd hired some girl Andrew's brother knew as a maid. The pay was good, and from all accounts, the house was marvelous. Gerard was said to be charming and courteous to his staff, if not mysterious. Rumours were flying about him already. Some said he was an invalid from Paris, getting healthy in the country air. Some said he had been in the army and had been scarred by the brutality. Everyone said he had money, and no one could say he had been anything less but magnificently courteous at their dinner parties, and still, he was mysterious. This disgusted Bert. The entire world was oblivious! He stole their belongings right under their noses, and as soon as this strange and mysterious man comes into town, all these people start going missing and no one makes a connection! "Is the entire world stupid?" he muttered to himself. "Not quite," replied a voice beside his ear. Bert looked up. Gerard gazed into his eyes and smiled.

"Hello there!" Gerard drawled, stepping away from the crowd and pulling Bert with him. "Imagine seeing you here!"

Bert could do nothing but stare. Gerard laughed. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Bert. I had no idea you were interested in the progressions of science."

"I'm not," Bert replied dumbly, squeezing Gerard's watch, which he had just stolen, between his fingers in his pocket. "To tell you the truth, neither am I," Gerard replied with an unnecessary jovial wink. "I'm just killing some time until I must attend a dinner party." He appraised Bert. "Still haven't taken a bath have you there, Bert? I tell you, if you even just washed one layer of dirt off, just one, you'd be invited to dinner parties too. You wouldn't have to hang around here skulking for your money." Bert glared.

"Right. Brilliant advice there, Gerard. Have any other pearls for me? Maybe you could tell me where to find a good dad to give me a posh trust fund to waste, eh? You seem to know where they're hiding. Hell, you've probably gone through two or three."

"As opposed to your one?" Gerard asked calmly. Bert felt his stomach twist. "I know all about you Bert. Your adventures. I know some very talkative people, and based on what they tell me, you are not in a position to criticize anything I do my dear friend." Gerard lit a cigarette with a smirk. "But in the meantime, I must be off. Be kind and give me back my watch you stole eh? I want to leave early tonight and I need a way to tell the time." Bert didn't move. Gerard made a face. "It pains me to touch you, Bert. Could you just give it back?" Bert made no gesture to return the watch. Gerard snapped on a glove and pulled it out of his pocket. "Thanks so much Bert. It's been a slice. I'm sure I'll see you around." He tipped his hat and walked away. Bert seethed.

Andrew sighed. "Bert, I really think you're over reactin' a bit, don't you? So he's a bit av a jerk. Sarah says-"

"It doesn't matter what Sarah says Andrew! She's getting paid by the man! Of course Sarah thinks he's fan-fucking-tastic." Bert sneered, slamming his hand down on the table.

"Jesus Christ Bert, that's the third time you've made me lose count!" Thomas yelled. Bert slunk lower in his chair and ordered another beer. "Sorry Thomas."

"The way you talk about this guy, it's like you're effin' obsessed or somethin'." Thomas muttered. Bert looked down at the table, and his dirty fingernails. Andrew rolled his eyes. "Yeah Thomas, Bert's a real queer. He was bangin' Smith for months you gob!"

"I didn't mean he was queer!" Thomas protested. "I just meant it was weird is all."

"Well-"

"Can you guys stop talking about me like I'm not here please? Hey yeah, thanks. I really appreciate it," Bert snapped sarcastically. Andrew sighed. "Look, I can see it really bothers you fer God knows what reason, so I'll tell ya what I'll do. I'll ask Sarah to keep me in the know about what's goin' on in the house, and then I'll tell you ok? Now can we get back to celebratin' a successful day please?"

"Fine. Thanks," Bert mumbled. "I'll put it out of my mind." He slammed back his beer, and Thomas started to count again.

"Ok, so we got the diamond hat pin. That's worth at least-."

Gerard smoothed his hair and tilted his hat at a charming angle and winked at his reflection in the brass of the door knocker before rapping politely. The music and voices inside were already leaning towards drunkenly loud. "Have to hand it to these socialites," Gerard muttered to himself. "They're not shy about dipping in to the wine cellar for a few expensive benders." The heavy door swung open and the tipsy hostess leaned on the door frame for support. Her skin was powdered almost as white as Gerard's was naturally, and her thick black hair was cut fairly short and was the same colour as her figure hugging dress. "Gerard!" She bellowed, flinging open her arms and hugging him. "Gina-" Gerard said with some distaste. She was rumpling his jacket. The diamonds around her neck weren't even worth stealing to make up for it. Paste. That was all they were. She stepped back. "Oh it's fabulous to see you darling, fabulous!" she giggled. He held up a bottle of brandy. "I brought some-"

"Oh that's FABULOUS that is!" Gina chortled. She snatched it out of his hand and spun around, pulling him in. "Look everyone! Look! Gerard is here and look what he brought!" She tapped the glass bottle with a glossy black fingernail. Several people turned around and clapped gleefully. Gerard forced a smile while Gina pulled off his coat and snatched his hat and tossed them at the butler. "Come my dear, have a drink, won't you?" she said to him. Gerard looked around. Most of the guests were new money. They were common people whose parents had capitalized on some silly invention or trend or something else as equally ridiculous, and were now as boorish as before, just rich. Very little class and all flash, which he could certainly take advantage of when it came to lining his pocket, but not if he desired any sort of stimulating conversation- but- in the corner, on the sofa, there was a young man, very slender, tall as himself, in a pressed black suit with a black tie, and an enamel tie pin shaped like a skull. The boy had huge dark eyes, high cheekbones, delicate nose, and thick curly hair. He watched the party with something like fear and disdain. He looked once at Gerard and looked quickly away. Gerard smiled.

"A drink?" he repeated. "Why yes Gina, I'm sure I will have a drink, certainly of the brandy for now at least. And pour another for that charming creature over there won't you? There's a good girl." Gina giggled. "He's a pretty one isn't he?" she asked, slopping brandy into two crystal cut glasses. "Indeed," Gerard replied curtly, stepping abruptly away from Gina with the glasses and towards the young man. "Very pretty."

Gerard sat beside the boy for a moment and then turned towards him. "That is a simply wonderful tie pin. Very unusual,"

"Thanks," the boy said hesitantly.

"What's your name?" Gerard asked.

"Peter," the boy replied.
"Pleased to meet you, Peter. I'm Gerard, and I'm sure we shall be most excellent friends by the end of the night. Most excellent friends." He handed Peter the glass of brandy, and watched the boy take a swig with amused eyes. "Tell me Peter," Gerard continued. "What do you think of the ladies at this party, hmmm?"

Peter had never been kissed like that by anyone. Certainly no woman had ever made him feel this way. He groaned a little as Gerard bit his lip lightly. "Hush, pet," Gerard murmured. "We aren't supposed to be in here you see." He smoothed Peter's hair off his sweaty forehead gently. Peter nodded and kissed Gerard firmly, again. Gerard looked over his shoulder for a moment and listened. He couldn't risk that drunken trollop Gina wandering into her room and finding them here. Not that he was ashamed of Peter. Gerard had long ago learned that gender mattered very little in a lover. Kisses were kisses, arms were arms. The result was the same. The only time he was all that picky was when he wasn't in the mood to tolerate the macho posturing of men, or the foolish clingy jealousness of women. It also added to his reputation of eccentricity if he was known to have male lovers from time to time, a reputation he did not mind stoking. However, what he was about to do could simply not be seen. There was no sound coming up the stairs, however, so Gerard relaxed.

"What's wrong?" Peter whispered as Gerard pressed back into him.

"Hush, pet, hush," Gerard kissed his face. "Just relax, and this won't hurt a bit." He kissed down the side of Peter's face, down his neck, and paused, kissing gently. Then he took his fingernails, and ripped. No one would have heard the screams downstairs over the music, so no one would have known that, when Gerard said it wouldn't hurt, he lied.

Chapter 3

"Bert! Bert!"

Bert kept walking around the corner towards the squat where his pallet and wool blanket lay. All he wanted to do was sleep. He hadn't been this drunk in weeks. Well... maybe not weeks, probably days, but you know the conception of a day on other planets could be weeks and whoa, that was the biggest rat he had ever seen and why was it so shiny? Must have been some sort of super bullet proof rat or water proof or damn he had to piss like a racehorse-

"Bert!"

When he had more money, he'd buy a racehorse and name it-

"Bert!"

Bert stopped. "Bert is a fucking stupid name for a racehorse mister!" he declared to the stranger behind him, spinning drunkenly around. "A fucking stupid name."

"Right," Gerard replied, crossing his arms with a raised eyebrow. "It is, isn't it?"

"Wait a minute, that's my name you sonovabitch!"

"And ten points to you my friend for figuring it out when you're absolutely shit faced," Gerard replied dryly.

"Oh hey Gerard- you look drunk. You're leaning all over the place."

"No, Bert. That's just your vision."

"I'm not drunk."

"You're still being civil to me, even though you're finally aware who I am. That's a sign of drunkenness if I ever saw one," Gerard replied. "Look, where do you live? Let me help you home,"

"Ohhho! No sir," Bert lurched against the brick wall and unzipped his pants.

"Your modesty astounds me, Bert," Gerard commented as Bert began to pee against the wall.

"I'm not letting you take me home mister," Bert continued, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Dare I ask why?" Gerard mused, lighting a cigarette.

"I'll have sex with you or something."

"I see," Gerard said, highly amused. "You'll have sex with me, well, that's a creative offer, I must say, but-" Bert stopped listening and zeroed in on a tiny spot on Gerard's collar. A small fleck. Barley noticeable. That's what was so shocking. Gerard was obsessed with detail, and that he had missed this spot on his white, white collar was very surprising. It looked like blood. Was it blood? Oh my God. Was it- What-

"Or you'll kill me," Bert said, giggling, as he struggled to zip himself up. Gerard stiffened.

"What did you say?"

"I said you'll killlll meeeeee,"

"Why would you say that?"

"Jeez Gerard, relax," Bert said through a grin. "I'm the only who's figured it out." Gerard laughed nervously. "Don't be ridiculous Bert. Why would I kill people?" "Cuz you're a-" Bert gagged violently but managed to regain his composure. "I'm a what?"

"I tell you it all-" Bert suddenly went pale, and vomited profusely. Gerard relaxed, but only a fraction. "Right. Sure. Ok Bert. You're obviously too drunk to have a proper conversation with, so I am just going to put this," Gerard held out a black envelope, "In your pocket. Try not to forget it's there, eh champ? There's a nice fellow, and try not to break your neck on the stairs," Gerard tucked the envelope in Bert's pocket and patted him in the shoulder. "Good night Bert. If God likes you, you won't remember any of this in the morning."

Bert, doubled over, looked up weakly at Gerard's retreating figure and vomited again.

Gerard lay awake, wondering what Bert could really know. "Could it be common knowledge?" he murmured. "Could they have figured I escaped, and put out some sort of alert?" Gerard shook his head. No, that couldn't be, or other people would know. Besides, there would have been plenty of bodily remains in that fire. No one could have guessed that one of them wasn't his. He frowned. Then how could Bert have figured it out so easily? Gerard tossed irritably. "He was just drunk, Gerard," he told himself. Sarah rolled over and looked at him sleepily. "What was that Gerard?"

"Nothing, Sarah, nothing," he stroked her face. "Go back to sleep." Sarah nodded sleepily, and dozed off. Gerard continued to stare at the ceiling, trying to guess how Bert had known.

Gina found herself being watched as she undressed by the dead eyes of a head, resting on her blood soaked pillows.

"Eh, what's it to ya this mornin'?" The voluptuous barkeep leaned over the counter as Bert stalked in, freezing, and hung-over. He had slept in the alley, where it had rained on him profusely. He grunted, and the girl laughed merrily and slammed down a huge flagon of black coffee. He buried his face in it gratefully. "D'you wants some eggs this mornin' Bert? I 'ave some nice bacon as well." Bert nodded, and cleared his throat.

"Hey Morag, what's in the news?" Morag tossed him a paper.

"The King an' Queen are dead, leavin' that little creepy daughter av' theirs as sovereign an' head o' state." Bert stared. "You're kidding?" Morag nodded her blond head gravely. "Tis true. We'll be in for a jolly run eh? Says in there her parents were p'isoned by a pie or some such thing as tha," Bert shook his head, "I wouldn't be surprised if the little bitch did it herself," he flipped through the pages, changing the subject. "Hmmm- seems Virginia Leona had quite a successful party last night, despite a suicide,"

"A suicide ya say?" Morag repeated, craning her neck as she tossed the bacon in the pan.

"Yeah, a Peter Cox. He cut off his own head somehow. Say, isn't he the son of the people who developed the first motorized carriages? Seems an odd party for him to go to. Leona's are new money,"

"I think. But what's it say?"

Bert shrugged. "Just lists the guests and what everyone was wearing, and at the end it says he kills himself but no one noticed because so many people were there. It happened sometime after ten, because that's when Gerard arrived and brought the brandy and went to talk to Peter- heh. They even quote the bastard in here,"

"What do they say?" Morag asked eagerly, slapping the eggs onto a plate. "Just the same old crap. He's very sad about his unfortunate demise, blah blah blah," Bert slammed the paper down. "That guy is such a bastard,"

"Who is? Tha' Gerard fellow?" Morag asked, handing him a plate. "Yeah," Bert agreed, taking a mouthful of hot eggs. "He's a total creepy blowhard. Foppish too, if you ask me," Morag mused over the picture.

"I dunno Bert. He seems kinda handsome,"

"You would think that." He glowered. Morag shrugged. "Just me opinion is all. I won't say I don't like a well dressed man," Bert shrugged and continued to eat. Morag turned on the radio, catching the tail end of the gossip show.

"I think it makes a young woman's reputation when young men are killing themselves in your bedroom, don't you agree? But enough about Gina's absolutely fabulous to do, there are better stories a foot. A little bird tells me that town's newest up and comer, the man with only one name, Gerard, will be hosting a dinner party. That's right kittens, feasting, cocktails and dancing in his fantastically spooky mansion up on the hill. And here's the kicker my little kitty cats, it's invite only! You can be sure all of Salisbury's elite will be checking their post boxes and shining up their motor carriages for this one!"

Morag cast a glance at Bert, who looked absolutely infuriated. She flicked off the radio. "Ok Bert, no offence my friend, but you're actin' like a socialite whose rival just stole her latest boy at her own party. What is your problem with this man?"

"He makes me feel uneasy, ok?"
"Well the former Queen, God rest her soul, had a fashion sense tha' made me uneasy, but I didn't p'ison the pie did I?" Bert sighed, pushing away his empty plate. "That's different Morag. I am convinced something is wrong with him. I feel it in my gut." Morag shook her head. "B'lieve what ya want kiddo, but this Gerard fella is just another eccentric. Ya gotta realize tha'."

To Be Continued...