Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“Yes, and she did it to pay down six different credit cards in her own name,” Frank said, pulling a list of transactions from the side pocket of the folder. “The bank has already issued a notice of default because the first payment was missed last Monday.”
“How long do we have before they act?” I asked.
“The probate court hearing is set for November fourteenth,” he said, looking at his watch. “That gives us exactly eighteen days.”
He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a white handkerchief. “If we present this fraud to the judge, the loan will be declared void, but the police will be involved immediately.”
“Let me talk to Nathan first,” I said.
He nodded slowly, placing the glasses back on his nose. “Be careful, Cassandra. A desperate person does not make rational choices.”
I rode the bus back to River Oaks and walked up the side driveway at one o’clock. Martha Vance was standing by our shared iron fence, wearing her grey wool shawl over her shoulders. She was clipping the dead blooms off her prize-winning hydrangeas, but her eyes were fixed on the street. She stopped her work the moment she saw me.
