Bertha said, “Because there’s ten thousand dollars missing.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you,” Mrs. Cranning asked, “accusing us of taking ten thousand dollars?”
“I’m not accusing anybody,” Bertha said, then waited a moment and added significantly, “yet.”
“Would you kindly explain exactly what you mean?” Eva Hanberry demanded.
Bertha said, “When Harlow Milbers died, he had ten thousand dollars in his wallet.”
“Who says so?” Paul Hanberry asked.
“I do,” Christopher Milbers announced, coming forward a step so that he was standing at Bertha Cool’s side, “and I happen to be in a position to prove my statement. My cousin was intending to negotiate for the purchase of some very rare contemporary historical books: Because of certain considerations which needn’t enter into the discussion, the purchase was to be for currency. He had ten thousand dollars in currency in his possession the day he died.”
“Well, he hid it somewhere, then,” Mrs. Cranning said, “because it wasn’t in his wallet when he died.”