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Chapter Twenty

Rosalind hid her smile behind her own glass.

"Well then," Niamh said, refilling their glasses. "On me."

Portia waited until the redhead moved along to whisper, "She's so lovely."

Rosalind nodded, lifting her hand to motion to Bea and Vi as they walked in.

"What made you choose this place?" Bea asked, pulling up a stool. "It doesn't seem like the sort of place you'd pick."

"I think we can safely say we don't know Rosalind well enough to know that," Vi said, motioning to Niamh before sitting down next to her. "But it'd be nice to change that."

"You must all be sisters," Niamh said, examining each of their faces. She nodded. "Beautiful, the lot of you. What can I get you? Whiskey?"

"A gin and tonic for me," Bea said, setting her Chanel bag on the bar.

"Tequila," Viola added, and two minutes later when Niamh poured the shot and slid it toward her she downed it and motioned for another.

Rosalind looked at Bea, who shook her head. Then Rosalind said, "Is everything okay, Viola?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she said bitterly, downing her second tequila shot, too. She exhaled like she was trying to blow off the weight of the world from her shoulders and then turned to them. "I'm ready. Let's discuss this."

"Are you sure, Vi?"

Viola gave their oldest sister a flat look.

"Okay, then." Bea nodded in thanks to the bartender before lowering her voice. "I got the address to Tabitha Welles's house. It's in Notting Hill. I had my investigator nose around a bit, and he says no one is currently staying there, nor is there any activity."

Viola brightened. "You have an investigator?"

"Yes."

"Can I borrow him?"

Bea frowned. "What do you plan on doing with him?"

"I need someone followed. I'm assuming he does that?"

"He does." Beatrice exchanged a look with Rosalind.

Rosalind leaned over and put a hand on her sister's knee. "Vi, are you having trouble at home?"

"No, because Charles is never there." She lifted her shot glass but set it back down when she realized it was empty. "This glass seems to have a leak."

Bea took it away and set it aside. "I'll have Wellington contact you later, but first let's work out the details of this operation."

"What details are there to work out besides the night we go there?" Rosalind asked.

Portia leaned in. "How are we breaking in? Do we need explosives?"

"No explosives," Rosalind and Bea exclaimed in unison.

"You're right." Portia nodded. "Too conspicuous, isn't it?"

"It'd be awfully satisfying though," Viola said wistfully. "Don't you ever get tired of living quietly?"

"What's going on, Viola?" Rosalind asked. "You're not acting like yourself."

Viola opened her mouth, but then she shut it and shook her head. "We're here to discuss the will. My problems can wait."

Portia took a minuscule sip of her whiskey. "So if we're not going to use explosives, how are we breaking in?"

"I'll take care of that," Bea promised. "We'll go in two nights' time."

"Dressed normally." Rosalind pointed at Portia. "We need to look like we're going out for drinks, not to rob a bank, in case we get stopped."

"Good point," Bea agreed. "That way if anyone asks why we're in her house, we can pretend to be drunk and clueless. Once we're inside, we'll divide the townhouse into sections. Rosalind, you search the living room, I'll do the bedroom. Viola, you take care of the kitchen, and, Portia, you do the spare room and hall closet."

They all looked at their oldest sister in awe. "You should have been a military general," Rosalind said, voicing what was in all their minds.

"I'm in business. Same difference. Are we all in?" She put her hand in the middle.

They piled their hands on top and echoed, "All in."

"We're like the four Musketeers," Portia exclaimed excitedly, "only better dressed and with more fashionable hair."

Rosalind looked at Bea, who rolled her eyes. What could possibly go wrong with this plan? She downed her whiskey and silently asked Niamh for another.