Roy let out a low whistle. "Wow. This is the place, eh?"
"Yep, this is the address Kelly gave us. Said his uncle won't be back 'til next Thursday and if Chet watched the place for him, he could have friends over. Guess since Chet doesn't have any friends, he invited us instead," John chuckled.
Roy rolled his eyes and said nothing. He pulled the Porsche alongside the concrete retaining wall and cocked his head, taking in the sight of the manicured flower gardens and the elegant topiaries lining the stone walk.
"Should we wait for the other guys or go on up?"
"Heck, I'm gonna make the most of this place," John spouted, "I'm goin' in now! Besides, there's Mike's truck, so he's already here. I'm sure Cap and Marco'll be along pretty soon."
"Yeah, guess so," Roy agreed, hefting the beer-filled cooler from the back seat.
"Yeowch!" John snarled, then leaned against the car door and observed his freshly-stubbed toe. "Stupid sandals...stupid concrete."
Roy thought his eyes might freeze in a rolled position if he did it any more often, and so restrained himself. "C'mon, Chet's waiting."
"Hey! Roy!" Gage howled, but Roy kept walking, chuckling and shaking his head.
Johnny quickly decided his toe was fine and grabbed the beach towels and his sunglasses from the car. It didn't take long to catch up with Roy who strolled slowly, admiring the expanse of deep-green lawn. It was July in southern California, and his lawn certainly didn't look this nice.
"Hm, sprinkler system, probably," he muttered, keeping his head down, "gardener too, I'll bet." Rich people made him nervous.
"Wouldya' look at that!" Gage sputtered, "That front door is 'bout as big as 51's bay door!" He ran a finger across the leaded designs in the crystal stained glass of the door's side windows. "Shew! Bet that door cost more than the squad!"
Roy punched a finger on the doorbell button; a loud, elegant version of "Westminster Chime" bonged out their presence.
Within seconds, the door was opened by a man, dressed formally in a tuxedo and cravat. A man, Gage was sure to note, who was larger and taller than any guy he'd seen since the time the whole crew had to rescue that giant dude who was high on paint fumes. Subtly looking the man over with a critical eye, he thought, "Maybe not as broad across the shoulder, but still, not your typical butler-type, either," he observed. The man was kind of young, and pretty good looking, if he had to say.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, Mister Kelly is in the back by the pool. Follow me, please," the man said while motioning with his left arm toward the doors at the back of the living area.
"He is a real butler? Good grief, Kelly's gonna milk this for all its worth!" Johnny thought, while nodding at the man. "I thought butlers were all old guys."
"A real butler? Good grief, Johnny's gonna raz Chet to no end for this!" thought Roy. "Huh, I thought butlers were all old guys."
The marble foyer opened to a magnificent living area, the likes of which John and Roy had never seen before. Enormous works of art with gilded frames were hung on each wall and deep brown leather furniture sat across from a white brick bar, undoubtedly well-stocked. Marble columns and floors that made their voices echo reminded Roy of the church he and Joanne were married in. The speaker system had failed that day and he remembered them having to shout their vows so the congregation could hear, but all that was heard was "Braaa, Ro, taaaa iii..." as the sound vibrations bounced off the walls. They had barely made it through the rest of the ceremony without laughing and now Roy was sorely tempted to yell "I dooo!" in this cavernous house just for old times sake.
The butler walked a few steps ahead of them and with his left arm, opened the floor-to-ceiling glass French doors leading to the stone patio and pool area. Mike waved to them from the diving board just as he made a rather poorly-executed swan dive into the deep end. The pool area was bordered with mature lemon and avocado trees planted behind a stone retaining wall, their long branches offering up some shade on one side of the immense courtyard.
There were chaise lounges and bamboo chairs lined along the waist-high wall and music played from an unseen stereo. As John expected, Chet was eating this up. Wrapped in a terrycloth towel and carrying a half-drunk bottle of beer, he sauntered up to them with an obnoxious grin plastered on his face.
"Guys! C'mon in! Have a seat!" he called, waving them over to a pair of lounges. "Hey, Halligan, take the cooler and get these guys a cold one, would ya'?
Roy and John exchanged looks, "Halligan?"