Page 85 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
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Agent Green followedKimberly through her old house, cataloging the items Kimberly wanted to keep.
“This lace tablecloth was my grandmother’s.”
The agent nodded at a worker, who added the cloth to the growing pile of items they were letting Kimberly keep.
“This painting was a birthday gift from my friend Candace.”
“What’s it worth?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had it appraised.”
The painting stayed on the wall.
“These books are mine. They are all signed to me.”
The agent opened the front cover of the nearest one. “This is a first-edition Leigh Benz, signed and dated on release day. You have a full collection of first copies. The collection is valued at over $50,000. Leigh Benz rarely signs her work.”
“Really? I had no clue the set was worth that much,” Kimberly muttered more to herself than the agent.
“The Caterpillar’s Heartis signed to your husband, not you. In fact, none are signed to you.”
“No, butCaterpillar’s Special Dayis signed to ‘Dearest Child,’ which makes it Clay’s book.”
“I’ll put these down, but I doubt you’ll get them. They are too valuable. Someone paid a pretty penny for them. Maybe if you have receipts.”
Kimberly looked at the agent. Where had he been the last two months? “They didn’t cost a penny. They were complimentary author copies.”
The agent shook his head. “So no receipts?”
“Why would I need a receipt?”
“To prove they didn’t come from your husband’s money.”
Kimberly set the book down and looked the agent in the eye. “You’re aware Leigh Benz is a pseudonym, right? In fact, it is my pseudonym. I didn’t pay for the books because I wrote and illustrated them.”
The agent’s eyes grew wide. “No kidding?”
“How long have you been working on this case? If you don’t believe me, call Agent Garcia. I know she just got out of the hospital, so she will only be slightly annoyed.”
“They assigned me to this case earlier this week to assess the contents of the house. I was informed nothing was to be sold until you claimed your property. But I need proof that the valuable stuff is yours.”
“Then right now I am claiming I am Leigh Benz, a fact your superiors will verify. It is my signature in these books, and they are mine. They have nothing to do with the Thompson estate, including the one I signed for my husband. It may be the only thing Clay inherits. Also, the Candace Wilson Ogilvie painting will go with me, or I will call her and get her lawyer involved.”
The agent swallowed.
“Now, can we continue with this? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.” Kimberly desperately wanted to be cuddling Clay.
“Let’s continue with the contents of the next room.” Kimberly followed the agent around the corner into her studio.
She gasped at the damage. Her father-in-law had torn through every cabinet and desk in her studio. No wonder he had discovered her identity. There were a handful of preliminary sketches in the secret drawers, but her sketchbooks and finished work were safe in a climate-controlled storage vault with her manager. “If there is anything still useable in this room, it’s mine. I know your directions are not to touch, but there were some hidden items I would like to check for. May I?” Kimberly kicked the bottom of the large cabinet, not waiting for an answer. It swung out two inches. Empty. The sketches inside hadn’t been for her books. They’d been part of her journal, including sketches of her unborn baby, of the view from the stateroom on their cruise, and of Jeremy laughing. “Have any sketches turned up at the other estate or the office?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“I would like to look at the artwork or sketches found at any of the Thompson holdings. As you noted with the books, they are valuable, but some are more valuable to me than they would be to any collectors.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that. Most of the other estate has been cleared for auction.”
