Julian pushed his shoulder hard against mine, knocking my hand away so the bloody handkerchief fell onto the carpet near his shoe.

“Where is the rest of it?” Julian shouted, leaning his head into the dark shelf of the safe.

“You came in here last night with your key and emptied it out.”

“Nobody emptied anything, Julian,” a quiet voice said from the study doorway.

Samuel Price stood in the hall with his leather binder tucked under his left arm.

Right behind him stood Melissa Grant, adjusting her wire-rimmed reading glasses as she carried a slim gray briefcase into the room.

Cousin David and two of our aunts pressed back against the doorway to let them through.