Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“It was notarized by her accountant,” I said. “And the funds were transferred into her personal account the next morning.”
“She told me she found a private investor to cover the business payroll,” he said, his hand dropping to his side. “She told me we were safe.”
“The house is listed for sale, Nathan,” I said, watching him closely. “She has already set up private viewings for this Saturday.”
He did not answer, his eyes returning to the floor as if he expected it to open up beneath him.
“Did you sign a power of attorney for her?” I asked.
“Only for the business accounts,” he said, his voice cracking. “She said it was just to handle the utility bills while I was out of town.”
He set the paper back on the cot and covered his face with his hands.
At half past four, I walked up the three stone steps to the kitchen door and let myself inside. The house was quiet, the only sound the low hum of the refrigerator in the empty room. I walked through the hallway into the foyer, where Sable was standing by the console table with a stack of unopened mail in her hand. She froze when she heard my footsteps.
