Chapter Twenty-five

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"I don't know of many thieves who take a private limo to break into a place," Portia said, reclining in the back of Bea's car.

Rosalind shook her head. "How many thieves do you know?"

"Have you seen our family's social circle? You have to ask?"

"The fact is," Bea said, not looking up from whatever she was doing on her phone, "I trust Nigel more than I'd trust a cab driver who didn't know us. Nigel is loyal."

"No one is loyal," Viola said as she stared out the window, her mouth turned down. "Give someone incentive enough and they'll betray you."

They all turned to look at her. Rosalind had spent hardly any time with her second oldest sister in the last ten years, but even she heard the bitterness.

"What aren't you telling us?"

"Nothing." She paused. "At least nothing until your investigator brings me proof."

Rosalind frowned. "Do you think Charles is having an affair?"

"Is it so surprising? Father did," Viola said bitterly. "I'm beginning to think there are no honest men."

She thought of Nick and shook her head. "You know that's not true. Your world view is just colored by where you're sitting now."

"I want better seats. I thought I got orchestra, but I really got standing room only."

Bea took her hand. "We'll sort it out."

Portia took her other hand. "And if we can't sort it out, we'll break Charles's knees for you."

Viola smiled.

Rosalind looked at Portia, imagining her trying to hurt anyone without breaking her nail, and she burst out laughing.

Her sisters joined in. They were still laughing when Bea's driver pulled over and through the intercom said, "We've arrived."

Bea nodded and opened the door. "Ready, ladies?"

They all climbed out. Rosalind looked around at the uniform row of houses, pressed side by side. "It's further down, isn't it?"

"Yes." Bea motioned to Nigel to stay and then began walking down the street like she owned it and the neighborhood, her purse in the crook of her arm. "I didn't want the neighbors to see a black car pulling up in front of it, just in case."

They arrived at the house and walked up to the door, where they stood and stared awkwardly.

"Maybe we should have brainstormed how to get in," Rosalind said mildly.

"That's easy." Portia picked up a rock from the bushes next to the walkway and shattered a windowpane in the door. They all stared in shock as Portia used her scarf to carefully pick away the glass and reach in to twist open the door. She swept in before the rest of them.

Finally Viola asked, "What happened to our very proper sister?"

Betrayal happened, but given Viola's apparent situation at home, Rosalind wasn't going to voice that. "We should probably go in and do this."

"Right." Viola marched in.

Bea shrugged and followed. "I suppose now isn't the time to mention that Wellington managed to have a key made for us."

"Probably not," Rosalind agreed.

"Don't touch the doorknob with your hands when you close it," her oldest sister reminded them all when they gathered in the foyer. "No fingerprints."

Bea pulled her phone out. Rosalind was about to say it was hardly the time to make a call when the phone beamed a bright stream of light. "Flashlight app," Bea explained.

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