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Millstone executive offices
Earlier that day
Arthur Millstone was pacing the floor. Rowena was smoking her third cigarette while nonchalantly spinning her stack of David Yurman Cable Spira bracelets. She hated it when Arthur was in a mood. Normally, she would pour herself a single-malt scotch, but it was still too early in the day, even for her.
Rowena was Arthur Millstone’s trophy wife and she knew it. She was tall and slender, with platinum hair cut in a short, stylish, chin-length style, one side longer than the other. Rowena had had one mission in life. To marry a rich man. Mission accomplished. It had taken a few years for her to wangle her way into the top echelon of old-money families. She had done it the hard way. On her back. The problem was that men with the kind of fortune she was after were usually married, and divorce was too costly. She had been around that block more than once until she met Arthur Millstone.
Arthur was sixty when he began his affair with Rowena. She had been thirty-five. Like the other men with whom she had dallied, he was married at the time, but Rowena fixed that. His divorce was swift, and new nuptials were shared immediately thereafter. It was now three years since Rowena had become Mrs. Arthur Millstone.
Rowena jumped when the phone on Arthur’s desk rang. She just knew there was trouble ahead. If they could get past the reading of the will, everything would be fine.
“What?” Arthur barked at his assistant.
“Mr. Millstone, Mr. Dunbar is on the phone for you.”
He pressed the flashing button. “Clive? I hope you have good news for me.” He feigned lightheartedness.
“Hello, Arthur. I’m afraid we are going to have to postpone the reading of the will for at least another thirty days.”
Arthur kept his temper under control. “But why?”
“Your father was supposed to meet with me the day of his heart attack. He indicated he wanted to make some changes in his will. Unfortunately, we never had the opportunity. He said he had everything on paper and the document was signed and witnessed by the house manager, Colette Petrov.”
Arthur was seething. He knew that the Petrov woman was going to be a problem. His father, Randolph Millstone, had been too fond of her. Not in a salacious way. It bothered Arthur that Randolph had treated Colette warmly. Randolph had reminded Arthur time and again that the staff was there to accommodate the needs of themanor,and that Arthur or his gold-digging wife could handle whatever Arthur needed.
Arthur resented everything about Colette. She was efficient and kept the staff humming. Arthur knew that he could be demanding, but Rowena’s behavior made Arthur look like a saint in comparison. On many occasions, his father reminded the two of them that as long as the house was running smoothly, Arthur and Rowena had nothing to complain about.
But they did. Repeatedly. Constantly. Again and again. Arthur wished that he could have fired Colette months ago, but she was off-limits, at least until his father passed away. In point of fact, after Colette had arrived, the power to hire and fire was hers or his father’s. Arthur no longer had any say in the staffing of the manor.
“I don’t understand, Clive. You have his original will, correct?”
“Yes, but I’m bothered by the missing document. It was unfortunate that he never regained consciousness.”
“Yes, very.” Arthur’s mood was taking a turn for the better. “I don’t see why this needs to be delayed any further.”
“I’d like to have the opportunity to speak with Ms. Petrov, but I understand she is no longer in your family’s employ.”
“That is correct. Rowena caught her looking through her dresser. Probably trying to find something she could sell.”
He glanced at Rowena. She rolled her eyes, knowing it was all a lie.
“I can’t speak to that. Did she leave any forwarding information? Where she could be reached?” Clive pushed.
“Not that I know of, but perhaps Rowena might. I’ll check with her when I get home.”
Rowena lit her fourth Treasurer Aluminum Gold cigarette. At sixty bucks a pack, twelve dollars had gone up in smoke in less than a half hour. Arthur waved the smoke away from him, giving Rowena a disgruntled look. She took another long drag.
Clive continued on the other end of the line. “Arthur, as trustee and executor of his estate, I feel obligated to be certain his final wishes are met.”
Arthur sat up straight in his chair. “I know you are trustee and executor, Clive. Isn’t there a time limit for how long you can postpone the reading of the will?”
“It could take up to several months, Arthur. That’s why it’s important for me to locate Ms. Petrov to ask her if she did, in fact, witness his signature, and if she has any idea where the document is. If she did not witness any such document, then we can proceed.”
“Clive, you know it wasn’t in the safe, and we searched the entire house but came up empty-handed.” That much was true, but for a very different reason. He huffed. “Very well, Clive. I’ll see what I can find out.” He hung up without saying good-bye.
“We have to find that woman before Clive Dunbar does. Or before those documents show up somewhere. One or the other. Preferably both.”
“Darling, if you recall, we gave her a very generous severance package, including a one-way ticket to Buffalo for her and her son, with the understanding that she would go live with her sister.” Rowena lit her fifth cigarette. She was chain-smoking now.
