The Valentine Veilleux Mysteries by Kathy Lynn Emerson & Kaitlyn Dunnett

Author:Kathy Lynn Emerson & Kaitlyn Dunnett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kathy Lynn Emerson
Published: 2021-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

LATER THAT SAME DAY, the phone rang. My caller ID informed me that the law office of Newbury and Newbury was on the other end of the line. I hesitated, very nearly letting the call go to voice mail, but curiosity won out over caution at the last minute.

"Hello?"

"Is this Valentine Veilleux?" someone asked a mellifluous voice.

"Yes, it is. And you are?"

"Wanda Newbury, Ms. Veilleux. I'm a lawyer. I'd like to speak to you in connection with the estate of the late Aaron Millard."

I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it.

"Ms. Veilleux?" Impatience leaked into the lawyer's tone.

"I'm here. I'm just . . . confused. Does this have something to do with his death?"

"In a manner of speaking. He left you a bequest in his will. Are you free to come by my office this afternoon? I'd prefer not to discuss this matter further over the phone."

Still bewildered, I agreed to a meeting in an hour's time.

The offices of Newbury and Newbury turned out to be a one-story clapboard building on a small lot at the corner of Holland and Middle Streets. I reached it after a brisk ten-minute walk from the photography studio and stood staring at the exterior for a long moment before I went inside. There was no receptionist on duty. At the sound of the door opening and closing, a muffled voice issued from the inner room.

"Come on back, Ms. Veilleux. I'll be with you in a moment."

Wanda Newbury was on the phone when I entered, seated behind an enormous, heavily carved oak desk. She motioned for me to take a seat in one of the two surprisingly comfortable visitor's chairs. While I waited, I studied her. She was a big woman with large hands. Her light brown hair was cut so that it feathered around her face, softening a square jaw. Dark brown eyes flicked my way, making her own assessment after she disconnected.

We were about the same age, in our mid-thirties, and when she stood to reach across the cluttered surface of the desk and offer to shake my hand, I saw that she was only a few inches taller than I am.

"You said on the phone that Aaron Millard left me something in his will. I can't imagine why he'd do such a thing. We hadn't known each other very long."

Wanda Newbury resumed her seat. "It's simple enough. Mr. Millard liked you. Shortly after he agreed to sell you his studio, he had me add a codicil to his will. He left you his cameras."

I felt incipient tears prickle at the back of my eyes and blinked to keep them at bay. I couldn't help but feel deeply moved by the gesture. The cameras were the only things he'd taken with him from the studio when he went out of business. I doubted there was anything that had meant more to the old man.

Wanda leaned back in her chair and studied me through narrowed eyes. "I thought you'd be disappointed.

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