farm and wonât mind. Donât get attached to this character. Heâs going to the butcher in a few days.â
Michael tossed the last crust of his peanut butter sandwich to the pig, and the scrap disappeared in one gulp. The pig was big and bristling with black hair. The ponies tried to bully him, but he stood fast. Michael leaned down and scratched the animal behind his ears. The pig cast a lively, curious eye upward, and Michael said, âWhatâs his name?â
âWe donât name animals weâre going to eat.â
âHeâs kinda lovable, though. And his nose makes him look a little like my uncle Ralphie.â
âMichael, do you like pork chops?â
âOkay, okay. See you at Christmas, Ralphie.â He gave the pig one last pat and turned around to look at the house. âWow. Is the roof looking weird to you? Over by that set of chimneys?â
âIâm not looking.â
âThatâs one strategy, I suppose. Maybe you better fight hard for Aunt Madeleineâs money.â
âIâd like to. Trouble is, she mostly invested in beautiful thingsâÂart and antiques. And theyâve disappeared.â
Michaelâs interest sharpened. âPoof?â
âLike Houdini pulled his best trick. The house used to be filled with a priceless collection. But we took a look around today, and most of itâs gone. Including a Fabergé egg.â I glanced up at him. âDo you know what that is?â
He didnât take offense at my question. âRussian, right?â
âYes. Beautifully enameled and decorated with gold and jewels. Itâs gone. All thatâs left in the house is either falling apart or ruined.â
âWhereâd the good stuff go?â
âWe donât know.â
âYou gonna call the cops?â Michael asked. âLooking for pretty stuff makes them happyâÂno danger involved.â
Michaelâs opinion of police work was biased, and I didnât take him seriously. Instead, I put my hand on his arm and squeezed. âWeâll talk to the police once we get a list of missing items worked up. Any other tips?â
âYouâll need good lawyers where the will is concerned. Not the polite kind who play golf.â
âI can only imagine your kind of lawyer up against the ones Sutherland can surely hire.â
âSutherland?â
âThatâs Aunt Madeleineâs stepson.â
Indulgently, he said, âHow come nobody you know is ever named Joe Smith?â
We smiled at each other.
âAunt Madeleineâs dying isnât the big headline today,â I went on. âWe went over to her house this morning. Quintain is amazingâÂâ
âWho?â
âQuintain is the house, not a who. Itâs a castle, really. But tumbling into ruin. Itâs worse than Blackbird Farm.â
âHard to imagine.â
I poked him with my elbow. âMaybe with all the time youâll be spending around here, you could learn a few carpentry skills.â
âYou have a hammer I can borrow?â
âThere are tools in the cellar. Surely some of them were made in this century. Thing is, when we were looking around Madeleineâs estate, we discovered a dead body. It was in the elevator of the house, nothing left but bones.â
Michael touched his hand to my cheek. No longer teasing, he said, âYou okay?â
âIt was a shock,â I admitted.
âAunt Madeleine?â
âWe think it must have been Madeleineâs housekeeper, Pippi.â
âHowâd she die?â
âSutherland suggested the electricity might have gone off while she was in the elevator. She must have been trapped and . . .â
When my voice trailed off and I struggled with my emotions, he said gently, âIt happened a long time ago, Nora.â
âStill, itâs awful to imagine how she suffered. The estateâs been