Chapter 7 - The Master Key No Longer Works
Margaret’s breath caught in her throat. ""What is this? Why are there police cars here?""
""Did Maria talk?"" Julian’s voice cracked in sheer terror. ""Mom, did that maid go to the cops?""
""Get out of the car,"" Margaret snapped, forcing her chin upward and smoothing the wrinkles from her silk blouse. ""Act natural. We are the owners of this residence. Whoever is here is trespassing on our private property.""
She marched up the front brick walkway with aggressive confidence, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She pulled her brass master key from her handbag and shoved it into the heavy front door lock. The key slid in smoothly, but when she attempted to turn it, the cylinder remained completely rigid. It did not budge an inch.
She rattled the brass handle violently. ""What is wrong with this lock?""
Before she could strike the wood with her fist, the double doors swung inward silently.
Standing in the grand foyer was not an intimidated maid or an apologetic local deputy. It was Arthur Vance, dressed in a flawless three-piece charcoal suit, holding a thick legal folder bound with red ribbon. Behind him stood two uniformed state troopers, their hands resting neutrally on their duty belts.
""Good evening, Margaret,"" Vance said, his voice flat, calm, and utterly devoid of emotion. ""You are attempting to use an obsolete key. The locks on this residence were updated six weeks ago pursuant to an emergency writ of exclusive possession.""
Margaret took a step back, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. ""Arthur? What kind of ridiculous game is this? This is my house! My late husband built this estate, and I demand to know why you are standing in my foyer with state police!""
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""Your late husband did not build this estate, Margaret,"" Vance replied, stepping out onto the porch and looking down at her over the rim of his reading glasses. ""Your husband’s manufacturing firm collapsed eight years before his passing. This house, the land it sits on, the vehicles in the garage, and the accounts you have been draining for five years were purchased entirely through the patent trust established in the sole name of your daughter.""
""Elena is dead!"" Julian shouted from the bottom of the steps, his composure completely disintegrating. ""She was an invalid! She couldn't survive two days without her medicine, let alone two months! Stop lying to us!""
