Secret Combinations Read Online Free PDF Page B

himself down. It was surprisingly comfortable. “That’s great,” he announced.
    Satisfied, O’Neill returned to her chair behind the desk, and resumed her reading of the will. “On behalf of Mrs. Ilsa Ingoldsby-Legrand, of Ingoldsby Manor, Surrey, I give a donation of ten thousand pounds to the Daughters of Mercy charity.”
    â€œWho’s that?” asked Kenyon.
    O’Neill glanced up. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œSorry to interrupt, but I was wondering who Mrs. Ilsa whatever is.”
    â€œMrs. Ilsa Ingoldsby-Legrand,” repeated O’Neill. “She is a patron of the arts and charity.”
    â€œShe must have been a friend of Lydia’s, then.”
    O’Neill paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t say that, no.”
    Kenyon raised an eyebrow. “Lydia gave ten thousand to someone she didn’t like?”
    â€œLydia held the Daughters of Mercy charity very close to her heart,” said O’Neill. “In fact, I have a recording of the charity auction that Lydia organized.” She dug in a drawer of her desk and pulled out a DVD , handing it across the desk to Kenyon. “The production company just sent it to me yesterday.”
    â€œThanks.” Kenyon put it in his suit pocket.
    The solicitor cleared her throat, then continued. “In recognition of his long friendship, I give Mr. Raymond Legrand of Ingoldsby Manor, Surrey, a Louis Vuitton briefcase, stored at 61 Herringbone Gardens, London.”
    Kenyon interrupted again. “Is Legrand connected to Ilsa?”
    â€œMr. Legrand is Ilsa’s husband.” O’Neill wet her finger and quickly flipped a page in the document. “Finally, I give all my remaining property and assets, both real and personal, movable and immovable, to Mr. Jack Kenyon, of San Francisco, California.” She picked up a small folder and handed it to Kenyon across the desk.
    The FBI agent flipped it open. “What’s this?”
    â€œIt is a tabulation of Lydia’s property, prepared by her last month.”
    Kenyon whistled. According to the list, he was now the proud owner of a home in the borough of Kensington and Chelsea, an art gallery in Mayfair, and a vineyard somewhere in France. There was also an extensive list of furniture, artwork, silverware, and other valuables. Kenyon’s eyes grew wide as he flipped through page after page. “Man, she had a ton of stuff.”
    â€œLydia was an affluent woman,” agreed O’Neill. “You have quite a bit of work ahead of you.”
    Kenyon’s pleased expression immediately dissolved, and he looked up in alarm. “Whoa, what do you mean: ‘quite a bit of work’?”
    O’Neill pointed to the list. “The will has not been fully probated yet. As executor, you must value Lydia’s estate, pay out the inheritance taxes, then finalize all behests.”
    â€œHow long is all that going to take?”
    O’Neill thought for a moment. “Assuming that the list is correct, and you can find and account for everything, it shouldn’t take more than a few months.”
    â€œA few months!” cried Kenyon. “I don’t have months, I gotta get back to San Francisco as soon as possible!” Kenyon pictured the mess the Cyberworm investigation would be in if he didn’t get home within the week. “Can’t you speed things up?”
    O’Neill stared down at the will. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kenyon. I’m trying to move ahead as quickly as possible, but you must understand, it was only two days ago that we, we . . .” The solicitor didn’t finish her sentence. Her shoulders began to shake, then she began to cry, softly.
    Kenyon stared at the lawyer for a moment, unsure what to do. He finally dug into his jacket pocket and found a paper napkin left over from the airplane meal. He stood up and limped around the desk. “Here, use this,” he