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“So, Gussy, what’s this Equine Rescue invoicing all about?” I asked.
I confronted him first thing Friday morning, before he had even booted up his computer.
“Huh?” Gussy said.
“Sorry,” I said. “Here’s the deal. I was sorting files and came across Uncle Phil’s paperwork and there was a whole lot of money spent on some place—presumably a foundation—called Equine Rescue. I figured that since you handled Uncle Phil’s bookkeeping, you could shed some light.”
“Well, um, I don’t really—”
“Good morning, Kathryn,” Rose said as she emerged from the ladies’ room. “Nice to finally see you.”
“You too,” I said, matching Rose’s insincere tone.
“Just wondering if Mr. Wilde was aware,” I said. “You know, about that kind of exceptionally large donation.” I was required to call Dad Mr. Wilde w
