Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
I slipped my brass key into the lock, but the metal teeth caught inside the keyway. It would not turn, no matter how much pressure I applied to the base.
“That key will not work anymore, Cassandra,” Sable said, her voice sharp and high-pitched in the quiet hallway.
I kept my thumb on the brass ring of the key, my hand perfectly still against the cold wood of the door.
“I had a locksmith come out first thing this morning,” Sable said, tapping a long red fingernail against her forearm with a dry, rhythmic click.
“This is my bedroom, Sable,” I said, keeping my voice low and even.
“We need to begin sorting through Gordon’s things, and having you go in and out only complicates the inventory,” she said.
I turned to face her, rubbing my gold wedding band with my left thumb, feeling the worn metal against my skin.
“Who gave you the authority to change the locks on my door?” I asked.
Sable did not answer. She turned on her heel and walked down the stairs, the sharp tap of her heels fading as she reached the foyer.
