Page 9 of The Murder Club

He cleared his throat again, tugging at his tie. Bailey wondered if his wife had knotted it for him. And if she was pissed.

“You are a beneficiary named in Nellie Warren’s will.”

Bailey was jerked out of her silly imaginings. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“You are named in Nellie Warren’s will.” He spoke slowly, as if realizing he’d blindsided her with his announcement.

“Seriously?”

“I never joke about legal matters.”

“I just . . .” Bailey shook her head, telling herself that the strange prickles of premonition were nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

So Nellie had left her a small gift. Big deal. It was a nice gesture of gratitude, nothing more.

“I had no idea,” she told the lawyer. “She never said anything about leaving me a memento.”

“This is more than a memento.” The older man lifted his hand, as if he intended to tug on his tie again, then perhaps realizing he was making Bailey nervous, he gestured toward the nearby chair. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

Bailey shook her head. She didn’t like the sound of “more than a memento.” “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well.” The lawyer cast a quick glance toward Lorene, who was watching them with a sour expression, before returning his attention to Bailey. “Let me start at the beginning.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve been the Warren family lawyer since I first opened my law firm,” he told her. “They entrusted me with their legal needs, including their will, which had never changed from the first day John and Nellie had it notarized thirty years ago.”

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

He held up a broad hand. “It hadn’t been changed for thirty years.” He deliberately paused. “Until ten days ago.”

“Who changed it?”

“Nellie, of course. She called and asked to come to the office to amend her will. I was shocked, honestly; as I said, it’s been thirty years since the first will was written, but I told her to come as soon as possible. At her age any legal matters need to be tended to in an expedited fashion. Not that I ever dreamed she would die less than two weeks later. We’re all quite devastated by her loss.”

Bailey ground her teeth together. She’d always heard the lawyer was in love with his own voice. Now she believed it. Why else would he make such a production out of a simple explanation?

“Why would she change her will?” she asked, forced to play his game if she wanted answers.

“Apparently Nellie became very attached to you and wanted to be sure she expressed her gratitude.”

Bailey shrugged. “She didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s what I said. Repeatedly. But she insisted.”

The lawyer looked annoyed that he hadn’t been able to sway the older woman. Bailey could have warned him that Nellie Warren was as stubborn as a mule.

“So what did she leave me?” Bailey demanded.

Ward squared his shoulders, as if preparing for an unpleasant task. “You are the sole beneficiary of her private savings account. A little over twenty thousand dollars.”

Twenty thousand dollars? Twenty. Thousand. Dollars.

Bailey silently repeated the words over and over, trying to process what was happening. To a woman who’d lived on the edge of poverty most of her life, that was a fortune. Like winning the lottery.

Except it made no sense.

Sure, she’d been close to Nellie. But only as a nurse and a favorite patient. It wasn’t like they were best friends. And they weren’t related. It would be understandable if she’d left Bailey her favorite scarf. Or a few trinkets that she’d collected over the years. But twenty thousand dollars . . .