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“Sure. Long-time regular customer. Why?”
“How long did you know her?”
“She ran her snack stand until the trains quit running. And when the bus depot changed to Main Street, she was forced to relocate next to the bank. But the business was never the same for her. She made do, as I recall, made ends meet. But people with money to spend on newspapers and snacks usually don’t ride the buses. Her business slacked off quite a bit until she finally closed up shop. Hmm, now, when was that exactly? Summer of 1993 sounds about right. Or she could’ve held out until winter of 1994.”
“What happened to Vera’s house? Her estate?”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly. Kinsey Wyatt might know. She’s everybody’s attorney, does wills and the like. So if Vera died with a will, Kinsey probably wrote it for her.”
“What about a surfer named Zephyr? Ever hear of him?”
“Not that I recall. But Wally Pierce is the man to see about that. He’s our resident surfing expert and gives lessons to anyone who wants to learn how. The guy could talk cars and surfing all day and twice on Sunday.”
“Good to know. We’ll get out of your hair and make the library our next stop. Let us know if Carla comes up with anything.”
“Will do. Don’t forget. We have a special today on sirloin steak, grass-fed beef, top quality, only $9.99 apiece.”
Lucien grinned. “Sounds great. I’ll pick some up on the way out.”
“Do that. And good luck finding out who our Gidget was.”
After making aquick stop back home to refrigerate the steaks, they split up—Lucien combed the library for photos and maps while Brogan made an appointment to see Kinsey Wyatt at her office. She hoped to catch Logan Donnelly there, too. With his real estate slash remodeling crew, he knew every house in town and every available plot of land. Surely he would know who had bought the Lockhart house.
The couple shared office space inside a two-story loft-like commercial property on Tradewinds Drive. Kinsey’s law practice took up one side while the other half housed Logan’s real estate venture.
When Brogan stepped inside, she entered the storefront’s reception area. She picked up on a mid-century-modern vibe mixed with a cool urban feel. But it was a no-frills, barebones décor with concrete floors, brick walls, huge plate-glass windows, and vaulted ceilings. A smattering of framed art on the walls included Kinsey’s online law degree, proudly displayed on her side of the business.
Brogan peered through an open doorway to see an attractive woman with golden-brown hair talking on the phone. Kinsey laid a hand over the receiver and hollered a greeting, “Be with you in a sec.”
“No rush,” Brogan returned as a man entered from the other side. Wearing ripped jeans and a button-down blue shirt, Logan Donnelly had an earring in his left ear and wore his chocolate brown hair past his shoulders. He didn’t look like the local real estate guru but rather an artist type who had just slapped paint on a canvas.
“Hey, Brogan, how’s it going?”
She could appreciate a pretty face. And Logan had an Adonis look about him. With a chiseled jaw and a dimple on his chin that made him look like a green-eyed Alexander Skarsgard, he oozed sexuality. Graying at the temples didn’t distract from his good looks. “I’m okay. I’m here to spend quality time with your gorgeous wife. I was surprised she was in the office on a Saturday. You too.”
“We try to use Saturday to catch up on everything we didn’t get done during the week. It’s hectic with kids and all. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’m not sure Lucien and I are ready to add kids into the mix. We might’ve known each other forever, but we’ve only had this marriage thing going for a year this month.”
Kinsey joined them in the foyer, carrying a manila file folder. “Good for you guys. By our first anniversary, Logan and I were knee-deep in diapers. Happy One Year.”
“Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”
A girlish giggle escaped from Kinsey’s lips. “Isn’t it just? Whether you’re married one year or a dozen, it’s an effort. You wanted to know about Vera Lockhart, right?”
“Right. Can you tell me anything about her estate without breaking a confidence?”
“It’s a probated will, which is public record. She left everything she had—about seventy-five grand in the bank and her house—split between the Fanning Rescue Center and Cord Bennett’s animal shelter. Ms. Lockhart adored animals and wanted to make sure Keegan and Cord were flush for the next two or three years. She bequeathed a generous sum in my eyes.”
“Who bought her house? Where did her personal belongings and other stuff end up?”
“Let’s back up and start over.” Kinsey exchanged looks with her hubby. “Last time I heard, Cord had decided not to put it on the market just yet. Is that right?”
Logan nodded. “Like most older homes on the east side of town, the house on Beacon Lane needs some work. It’s a unique shotgun-style layout with a side porch and a bedroom upstairs. Cord and Keegan decided it needed a few repairs before selling it to get the best price. But like many of us, they’ve been swamped and haven’t gotten around to what needs doing yet.”
“Are you saying they haven’t cleaned out the house? At all?”
“Not yet. Why? Why this interest in Vera Lockhart?”
