Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“You are right on time, Cassandra,” Frank said, his legalistic cadence slow and steady.
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a small velvet box, setting it gently on the green leather blotter between us. When he opened it, the silver key chain we had recovered from the safety deposit box glinted in the desk lamp’s glow. Beside it lay three thick blue folders, their edges neatly aligned.
“I have the final settlement papers ready,” Frank said, tapping the top folder. “The probate estate itself is officially closed.”
“And the final balance?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“The probate estate is completely empty,” Frank said, looking at me over his glasses. “Every account Sable tried to touch was depleted or encumbered by her own debts. If that was all Gordon had, there would be nothing left but the bills.”
He paused, sliding the second folder toward me.
“But as we know, the private trust was kept entirely separate,” Frank continued. “It holds exactly nineteen million dollars, untouched and fully cleared by the court. Along with the deed to the Azure Cove villa in Cancun.”
