Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“We do not have three weeks,” I said. “Sable has already changed the locks on the house.”
Frank paused, his hand hovering over his glasses. “She locked you out of the house?”
“I am sleeping in the garage room,” I said.
Frank closed his folder with a sharp snap that echoed in the small booth. “I will call the regional vice president immediately. We will have the verified records by two o’clock this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Frank,” I said.
“This is going far beyond a family dispute,” Frank said, his face tightening. “We must have the documentation in hand before we file anything with the court.”
“Will the bank release the records without Nathan’s signature?” I asked.
“As the co-executor, you have full legal authority to request them,” Frank said, standing up. “Sable cannot block a direct inquiry from my office.”
We walked out of the branch together, the midday sun reflecting off the tall glass windows of the plaza.
The elevator in Frank’s building hummed as it carried me up to the fourth floor.
