Free Bones & Boxes: a Hetty Fox Cozy Mystery (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Anna Drake Page A

scattered about the room. One of them must have caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye, because she rose from her chair and scurried to me.
    The clerk was of medium build with short, curly hair, and a businesslike smile. “May I help you?”
    “I hope so,” I replied. “I’m looking for the will of a woman named Lillian Whitcomb.”
    “Do you have a case number?”
    “A what?”
    She smiled. “Never mind. I think I can fix you up.” She turned to a computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
    Thank you.”
    She nodded. “Not a problem.” Then, after staring at the screen for a minute, she grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down some notes. “Files this old are stored in the other room. It won’t take me long to fetch it. Wait here.” She turned and  hurried down a short hallway to a wide exit door.
    Behind me, the door to the County Clerk’s office opened and closed. A gentleman stepped up beside me, a stack of papers and briefcase in hand. He was well dressed and well fed and shot me a megawatt smile.
    The word lawyer instantly popped into my mind.
    A clerk from across the room called out a greeting. She Rose from her chair and came to the counter. Obviously, the man had come to take care of legal business. They huddled for several minutes. Papers and money were swapped. Then, the man gave me a brief nod and left.
    Shortly after he’d departed, my helpful clerk hurried back into the office. She carried a large file, which she placed on the counter in front of me. Pointing to a desk on my side of the barrier, she said, “You can sit there to sort through the papers. We’ll make photocopies of any pages you choose. Just give me a wave, and I’ll come right over. The charge is only fifty cents a page.”
    I thanked the woman, strode to the desk, and sat. After tugging the file open, I withdrew a deep stack of papers. The depth of the pile surprised me. I hadn’t realized wills generated this much paperwork. But once I started pouring over the stack, I soon realized why there were so many pages.
    The will  was simple enough. It showed that my little knitting friend had been correct. Carrie Flynt had inherited all of Lillian Whitcomb’s property. The woman’s house, investments, cash, and every scrap of whatever she owned was targeted to go to Carrie as the estate’s only heir.
    Then I came across a second batch of papers. They turned out to be part of a petition contesting the will. In them, a woman named Madge Barstow claimed Carrie had used her position of housekeeper to unduly influence Mrs. Whitcomb. Without such influence, the petition said, her sister would never have left her money to Carrie. Based on the fact that Madge was Lillian’s sister and closest living relative, she asked  the judge to throw out the current will and name her and her son as the rightful heirs.
    My jaw dropped. Doctor Barstow’s mother had actually gone to court to try to get her hands on her sister’s money .
    Apparently the judge hadn’t bought Madge’s argument, because in his final ruling, he declared Mrs. Whitcomb to  have been an intelligent woman, “who was perfectly capable of making her own decisions.” Then, he went on to dismiss the Barstow claim and approve Carrie as the rightful heir.
    I glanced up at the window across the room and chewed my pencil, remembering the condition of Carrie’s house. Where had all that money gone?
     
    ***
     
    I couldn’t resist driving past Carrie’s house on my way home, and I was stunned to see a car parked in the driveway. I knew the place was to be sold. I wondered if it was on the market already?
    I reduced my speed and gawked. Who was in the house? And I was totally stunned when  I saw Hank Pickering step out of the front door. He’d have been my very last guess.
    Easing my car to the curb, I came to a stop and beeped. Hank looked up. I waved. I swear I could almost hear him moan.
    But it wasn’t me he objected to. He hadn’t appeared to be a