The Start of the Clue Hunt
Ian Kabra had charm, wealth, and stunning good looks. But he couldn’t move one stubborn cow out of the middle of the road. He didn’t understand it. The beast just stood there blocking the way with a dumb expression on its face, chewing its disgusting green cud. Ian grew more furious with each
chomp mash chomp
the cow made. He had places to be and people to judge. There was no room in his schedule for staring down dirty quadrupeds.
“Livestock isn’t nearly as stubborn in England. It must be the American blood,” his little sister, Natalie, scoffed from the seat beside him. Her black silk funeral dress gave her an air of confidence beyond her eleven years. The dress seemed perfectly designed for her. In fact, it
had
been designed for her — in Paris.
“All right, Giles,” Ian called out to the chauffeur as he glanced down at his Rolex watch. “It’s time for drastic measures. Get out, and push the beast over to the side of the road.”
The black BMW sedan that the Kabras reserved for their visits to the States sat purring in the narrow road, surrounded by cattle. The midday heat billowed like a mirage off the hood of the car.
“Me, Master Ian? Push the cow?” Giles groaned and opened the driver’s side door.
As Ian watched the chauffeur trudge over to the animal, Natalie turned the knob up on her personal A/C vent with a vengeance.
“Ugh! This humidity is simply horrid,” she whined. After a moment of dramatic fanning, she looked over at Ian and asked, “Do you think Grace left the estate to Amy and Dan? Those sad little orphans
were
her favorites, after all.”
“The
estate
is beside the point. I’m not entirely sure there will even be a will reading. All I know is Mum said we need to keep an eye on Amy and Dan,” Ian replied.
“What could those two really do with such a large house, anyway?” Natalie wondered. “Not that I care. We already have a mansion. But it seems so odd to just give one away to poor people.” Natalie shrugged, then pushed the DOWN button on the power windows and stuck her head out. “Giles, tell that blasted cow that if it doesn’t get out of the way soon, I‘m going to have it tanned by our man in Tuscany — and I’m not talking about
sun
tanned!” Natalie yelled.
It wasn’t long before the Kabras were back on the road, and what looked like endless farmland to Ian rushed by in a dizzying blur of sun-soaked blues and greens.
The car glided to a smooth stop along the gravel drive in front of Grace’s mansion. Ian heard the crunch of the small stones beneath his feet as he stepped out of the car. Catching the low rumble of distant thunder, he looked up to the vast stone gables of Cahill Manor. Rows of enormous windows along the face of the mansion reflected the overcast sky spreading out over the rolling hills and forests of the estate. Weathered spires and gargoyles lining the roof glared down over the drive. The mansion loomed in all its glory from the top of a hill at the center of the grounds. It was an impressive sight, and for a moment, Ian almost forgot he was in a country where it was acceptable to wear blue jeans to the opera and people ate pizza with their hands.
The heat of the day settled quickly onto Ian’s shoulders, though summer storm clouds were building in the east. A low hum sounded from the manor as a light breeze moved around its vast stone walls. Ian buttoned his double-breasted silk suit and walked over to Natalie.
The two Kabras strode down to the family graveyard, which was ringed by a small forest. The grounds were covered with guests. At least four hundred people stood in and around the graveyard, waiting for the funeral to begin. Grace had a very large and international family. They were all Cahills, in one way or another, though they didn’t always carry the surname. There were Brazilian, French, and Australian Cahills. There were high-ranking diplomats, Nobel prize–winning scientists, and
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