“What on earth are you doing?” Dexter asked, strolling into the library.
Mona peered over a stack of magazines and photo albums she was studying. “I am placing faces with names from the guest list. My secretary has turned this ball into a study course worthy of an ivy-league university.”
“Good idea. Nothing like learning the enemies’ weaknesses before battle.”
“Why do you assume they are enemies?”
“Not only are you a woman, but you’re not one of them.” Dexter paused. “Oh dear, I’ve really stuck my foot in my mouth this time.”
“I know what you mean, and it will be an uphill battle, but I have a plan to conquer the Huns.”
“How?”
“Can’t tell you. You might blab to Willie who will blab to everyone else.”
Dexter grabbed at his heart. “You cut me to the quick with your cynicism.”
Mona laughed.
“I understand because I do tell Wilhelmina everything that isn’t under client-lawyer privilege, which is sacred to me.”
“Dexter, everything you and I say to one another is privileged.”
“Oh.”
“Tell Willie if she wants Moon Manor gossip, she must come to the source.”
“I hear and I obey.” Dexter clicked his heels together and gave a stiff bow.
“I see your briefcase is bulging. Let me move some of this material out of your way.” Mona picked up stacks of photo albums and magazines, placing them in a chair. “Before we start, Dexter, I want to ask you something.”
“Go ahead,” Dexter replied, pulling a sheaf of papers from his briefcase.
“I inspected the house after lunch, and quite frankly, I’m appalled at its condition.”
“Yes, that.”
“The house is so dark and gloomy, not to mention the kitchen needs upgrading—only one tiny refrigerator for this big house. The pantry is disorganized and not properly lit. I don’t know how the cook manages. The servants’ quarters haven’t seen paint since Grover Cleveland was President, and the bathroom downstairs is underwhelming, not to mention there is no proper bathroom on the third floor. Did you know the laundress is still doing the wash by hand? We need a new washer with a wringer on the top, plus the furniture in this mausoleum is Victorian and out of date. Even the bed linen is old and frayed. Can’t we postpone this fête until I can get things in order?”
“No can do. Invitations were sent out yesterday. It’s already the talk of the town. Three chaps from my club called the house to ask me about it, and Willie has made an appointment with her dressmaker. You are giving a party the night before the Kentucky Derby. It’s all set. You can’t back out now.”
Mona leaned back in her chair, twisting her mouth in frustration. “I see. Well, if the invitations have gone out, there’s nothing more to be said. What’s done is done. I was hoping to have more time.”
“The party will be at night. Using candles and putting the electric lights low will hide a multitude of sins.”
“How did things at Moon Manor become so tattered?”
“The farm itself is in tiptop shape. It’s where Manfred spent most of the money. I don’t think he cared for change at Moon Manor and let things slide.”
“Maybe I should go live in the stables.”
“I was hoping you would address this matter.”
“What are you handing me?”
“It is an up-to-date spreadsheet of all your assets and liabilities. Also included is a budget for repairs and upgrades to the house. We’ll have no trouble getting the best people.”
Mona perused the documents. “You’re a man after my own heart.” She looked up from the papers. “Willie made you do this?”
“Yep. You caught me.”
“I assume you have a list of recommended workmen.”
“Anybody in this town with a hammer will want to claim the bragging rights that they worked on this house.”
Mona flapped the papers at Dexter. “I will look this over and get back to you. You know I took accounting courses in college.”
“Didn’t realize.”
“I have one more thing to ask. I can’t find Uncle Manfred’s death certificate anywhere. Do you have a copy?”
“Why would you want to see his death certificate?”
Mona ignored Dexter’s question. “Do you have the official copy?”
Dexter reached inside his briefcase and pulled out a typed and embossed certificate, handing it to Mona.
While Mona glanced over the certificate, she asked, “Did you know Miles stayed over last night?”
“Yes, I let him.”
“Why?”
“He was blind drunk. I thought it best. The servants were to whisk him away before you awoke. Is he still here?”
“Don’t know, but I do know someone tried to break into my bedroom. That’s why I wanted all the Moons out of the house last night.”
Dexter was flabbergasted. “But how? You have the only keys.”
“There must be a third key.”
“What happened?”
“I shot at the perpetrator and chased him out of the house?”
“Was it Miles?”
“Samuel was to check to see if Miles was still in his room?”
“And?”
“I haven’t spoken to him yet.”
“Let’s straighten this out now.” Dexter rang the servants’ cord.
They waited quietly until Samuel entered the room.
“You rang, Miss?”
Dexter asked, “Samuel, after the incident last night, was Mr. Miles in his room?”
“No sir. The bed was disturbed, but Mr. Miles was absent.”
“Do you know where he is now?” Mona asked.
“I took the liberty of phoning your aunt’s house. Archer told me Mr. Miles stumbled home drunk around two this morning. Those were Archer’s words, Miss, not mine.”
Mona thanked Samuel and gave him leave to go.
Dexter apologized. “I’m sorry, Mona. If I had any idea that Miles would be up to mischief, I wouldn’t have let him stay, but he could hardly stand.”
“It was near three when I chased someone out of the house. Would Archer lie about the time for Miles?”
“Why should he?”
“Why does anyone do anything? Sex, money, or power, or a combination of the three.”
“You’re very cynical for a young woman.”
“Had to be. School of hard knocks. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Dexter, but it’s rough out there, especially for women and children. Please follow my instructions to the letter next time.”
Dexter nodded, duly chastised. He had put his client in danger.
Mona put the death certificate in one of the desk’s drawers and locked it. “It’s about time for tea. Would you like to stay?”
“I could do with a cup of coffee. I’m starting to drag a little.”
“Then let’s retire to the parlor.”
“I could fancy a sandwich, too.”
“Yes, quite,” Mona answered, wondering why Dexter had seemed so hesitant to give her Uncle Manfred’s death certificate. As soon as she got a chance, she was going to study it.
When she had asked the staff about Uncle Manfred, they said he was a good employer, and she should ask Mr. Deatherage for any information. They seemed nervous with her questions.
Mona was determined to find out why because nothing about the inheritance felt right to her.
Nothing at all.