“Your only copy is in the floor safe,” Margaret said.

“How did she get her hands on the private trust details?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

I lugged the heavy wicker basket through the kitchen and out the back door.

The big plastic trash bin stood against the brick wall of the garage.

I raised the dark green lid with my free hand.

The smell of wet grass and old coffee grounds rose up from the plastic rim.

Margaret stood in the doorway, watching.