Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
The number hung in the quiet room like a physical weight, making the steady ticking of the wall clock sound much louder than before. I looked at the silver coffee pot on his credenza, then back at his hands.
“And the house in Mexico?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“The Azure Cove villa is tied to the same private trust,” Frank said, reaching into his desk drawer.
He pulled out a small velvet tray and set it in the center of the dark mahogany desk. Resting in the center of the dark fabric was a silver key chain with a heavy, blank brass disc that caught the dim light of the desk lamp.
“This key opens safety deposit box four hundred and twelve at the main branch of First Texas Bank,” Frank said, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
I took the silver key chain from the tray, feeling the cool weight of the metal in my hand.
