Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“What could he look into?” I asked, setting the mug down on the wooden workbench.
“He can check public records, loans, liens, anything that has been filed under Nathan’s name or the house address,” Martha said. “He does it all from his computer. It would not cost you a dime, Cassandra.”
“I have an appointment with Frank Higgins at eleven,” I said, touching the gold wedding band on my finger.
“Arthur can start quietly,” Martha said, pouring more coffee into my cup. “Just say the word.”
“Let me speak to Frank first,” I said. “We have to know exactly where the estate stands before we make a move.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Martha said, moving back toward the side door. “People like Sable do not stop until they are stopped.”
“I know,” I said.
Martha slipped back out into the morning fog, the latch clicking shut behind her.
The fog had not cleared by the time I walked down the long driveway to meet Frank Higgins.
I met Frank at the River Oaks branch of the bank at eleven o’clock.
