The laughter around the table died down slightly as Victor looked up, expecting her to be holding a serving platter or an apron.
Instead, Clara stood in the center of the Persian rug, holding the heavy brass key high above her head.
"What is that ridiculous trinket?" Victor scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a sneer. "Did you go dig through your father's old junk drawers to avoid making dinner?"
Before Clara could answer, heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed down the marble hallway outside.
The double doors of the entrance hall swung wide open.
Walking into the dining room, flanked by two armed uniformed officers, was Captain Miller of the State Police, accompanied by an auditor from the Federal Probate Court carrying a sealed metal evidence box.
Victor leaped to his feet, his chair scraping violently against the hardwood floor. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?! Security! Who let these men into my house?!"
Captain Miller didn't flinch. He walked straight past Victor, stopping beside Clara and offering her a respectful, solemn nod.
"Clara," Captain Miller said softly. "Do you have the primary key?"