Page 65 of A Mile of Ocean

“Like what? Contemplating breaking into a safe I’ve had access to for most of my life?” Tate grumbled.

“You’re thinking of doing what?” Dolly asked, standing in the doorframe in her bathrobe. “Why would you need to break into the safe?”

“Because the Duchess has gone stark raving mad and locked us out of it,” Tate explained. “She changed the combination. She says someone sent a letter demanding money—and we’re thinking it’s the same person who shot Granddad—even though our grandmother isn’t saying.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. That explains a lot. You don’t need to break into it. I know the combination she likely used.”

Trent stopped making the sandwiches. “You know the combination? How?”

“When you were both away at college, she got mad at Barrett and did the same thing she’s doing now. Every time she gets upset, she changes the combination to the same set of numbers so she can easily remember them. It’s a combination of their wedding anniversary, 5-15-66, and your father’s birthday, 7-11-68.”

“Why didn’t we think of that?” Tate admonished.

“Because we’re idiots,” Trent stated as he made a beeline to Barrett’s office. Tate, Savannah, and Dolly trailed after him.

Inside the study, Trent flipped on the lights and went over to the antique Mosler safe his grandfather had picked up at an auction back in 1971. While Tate stood watch by the door, her eyes peeled for any sign of her grandmother, Trent dialed in the combination: five right, fifteen left, sixty-six right, seven left, eleven right, and sixty-eight left. He was surprised when he turned the handle and the safe opened.

“Told you that was it,” Dolly muttered, standing over his shoulder. “Next time, ask first.”

“I’ll never doubt you again,” Trent said, planting a kiss on the top of her pink-feathered hair.

“Don’t just stand there,” Tate encouraged. “Find out if she kept the letter.”

Trent swung the safe door open and delved into its treasure trove of contents, a hodgepodge of papers he recognized as ordinary vendor invoices. “I’m not sure why these are in the safe instead of the office. But the rest, we’ll need to sort through.”

“Why are invoices in the safe?” Savannah asked. “What’s so special about them? Are they from the same vendors you ordinarily do business with, or are they different?”

Trent picked one up and read over the statement. He frowned. “These are invoices I haven’t seen before. It’s for feeddelivered to a different address in Green River, Wyoming, for the Triple C Ranch.”

“What’s the date on them?”

“Most are dated recently. But they go back several years.”

“I thought you said that rancher died,” Savannah said, cocking her head to one side. “I just assumed the Triple C no longer existed.”

“That’s what I believed,” Trent declared. “Tate?”

Tate shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the Triple C. Is it important?”

“It could be.”

“Isn’t anyone going to ask me?” Dolly exclaimed, taking a seat on the leather couch.

Trent pulled out another stack of papers. “Okay, tell us what you know.”

“I overheard an argument between Duchess and Barrett after he found the invoices. They were stuffed in a box upstairs.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three months ago, sometime around the end of February. Barrett demanded that she get rid of the ranch, sell it back to the relatives in Oklahoma before the situation blew up in their faces.”

Tate’s jaw dropped open. “Could that be the key to this entire mess? She’s been running the Triple C in another state?”

Trent waved the documents in the air. “Probably. She obviously didn’t listen or divest herself of the Triple C because some of these invoices are dated from last month. Some of them go back years. So this has been ongoing for a long time before Granddad caught on.”

“Maybe he intercepted that letter,” Savannah suggested. “The one demanding restitution or else.”

“Let’s search through the rest of these documents,” Trent advised. “We need a clearer picture of what’s been going on from the start.”

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