“You didn’t have access to the house before,” said Brent, nudging a box with his foot.
“There must be thousands of documents here.” Nadine felt faint.
“You don’t need to categorize them,” Brent assured them. “My aunt’s literary executor has everything of value, and this is all getting shreddedin three weeks to prepare for the house sale.”
“Three weeks?” asked Wes.
Nadine silently agreed. There was enough here to keep them busy for a year.
“I wish I could give you longer, but that’s all I can spare,” said Brent with regret. “The upkeep on this place is expensive, and I’ve got a buyer for the property that I can’t risk losing, not in this market. If it helps, you can live in the house.”
“You trust us to live here alone?” asked Nadine.
“Dot did and I need someone to feed the cats. Maria didn’t want to stay with my aunt gone.” Brent looked at them. “Also, I could be wrong, but you two don’t strike me as the kind to turn this place into a party house.”
His phone rang with a little ditty that sounded like MC Hammer, and he excused himself to take the call, moving into the library and leaving Wes and Nadine alone in the attic. She turned around one more time. She wanted to do this. She wanted to know what Dot was hiding. She wanted to explore the secrets of this attic, and she wanted to do right by Dot.
She turned to Wes, who had walked away as if looking at the attic from another angle would make it more manageable. “Hey, Wes?”
Wes came out from behind a cabinet. “I think you mean Detective Chen, Agent Barbault.”
She opened her mouth to protest him getting to be the detective but decided Agent Barbault had a nice ring. “Looks like we’re on the case.”
He grinned at her and put on the voice of an old noir gumshoe. “We’ve got a dame with a past and an attic that’s our future.”
Nadine tried not to laugh. She really did.
She failed.
Sixteen
Satisfied to have made her laugh, Wes looked around the attic as Nadine sneezed again. “Are you sure you can handle the job?” he asked. “The dust might kill you.”
Nadine rubbed her nose. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about how you’re going to deal with sharing the house with a herd of cats.”
“I like cats,” Wes said with growing enthusiasm.
“No, you don’t.”
“I will make myself like cats if needed,” he amended. Dot’s looked nice enough.
“What about work?”
Wes looked around at the boxes. “I have vacation time due.” Rebecca had been sending him increasingly sharp emails reminding him of theSpear’s use-it-or-lose-it policy as he hadn’t taken any time this year.
Nadine frowned. “I can put in the request, but it’s pretty last minute. If it’s not granted, I’ll have to come here after work.”
“I’ll email my manager right now.” He took a minute to rapidly tap out a message to Rebecca, apologizing for the late request, then bent to pick through a box. “God knows what secrets are in here.”
“We might not find anything,” said Nadine repressively, as if trying to tamp down her own hopes.
“Not with that attitude.” Wes pulled out a theater program from a 1989 performance ofThe Phantom of the Opera, which he brandished at Nadine. “See?”
“Mystery solved. Brent will be thrilled.” She looked around. “Three weeks isn’t a long time, even if we sleep here.”
“That, I’m not sure I can manage,” he said, thinking about his mother’s reaction. He hadn’t been away for that long since his internships after school, when his sisters had still been home. Would Amy be willing to move back home for three weeks? No, that was too much to ask. “I might have to come in every day.”
“Then you’ll be here in the day, and I’ll be here at night?” Was it him or did she sound faintly disappointed? She gave him a sly grin. “Admit you’re scared to stay here.”
