The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(48)

That evening Detective Nichols returned to Destiny’s house. I don’t know if he took notice of Mary Beth peeking through the slat in her blinds, but I sure did. He rang the doorbell and Destiny answered right away.

“Destiny Fairchild?” he asked. You could see by the surprise on his face that he hadn’t expected someone so sweet and delicate looking.

“Yes sir,” Destiny answered and smiled. Once a person got past that wide open smile of hers, those green eyes were the next thing you’d be sure to notice. I was a bit sorry that Tom Nichols wasn’t a single man, but I knew for sure he wasn’t because on his desk there was a picture of a pretty woman and two little blond-haired girls. A man like Tom Nichols would have been real good for Destiny.

“Were you the caretaker for Abigail Lannigan before her demise?” he asked.

Destiny’s smile faded. “Uh-huh.”

“Her nephew has expressed concern about some loose ends regarding her estate, mind if I ask a few questions?”

“Okay,” Destiny answered and led him into the living room. “But, I have to tell you, Elliott’s not actually her nephew. Miss Abigail always said he was so far removed that he couldn’t be considered real kin.”

“Oh, so you know Elliott Emerson?” Detective Nichols appeared to be doing nothing more than having an innocent conversation, but the whole time they spoke his gaze was darting around the room and making note of the things he’d seen on Elliott’s list. “My, that’s an interesting piece,” he finally said and walked over to the sewing cabinet that had at one time belonged to Livonia Lannigan. “Antique?”

“I believe so,” Destiny answered. “It’s a sewing cabinet that Miss Abigail gave me.” She pulled open the door. “See, these little spindles, that’s where the thread goes. Miss Abigail treasured this cabinet, because it belonged to her mother.”

“You were good friends with Abigail Lannigan?”

“Oh, yes. Very. She was a special lady.”

“She give you a lot of presents?”

“Way more than she ought to, but that’s how she was. Generous to a fault. Plenty of times I told her I didn’t feel right about taking such expensive gifts, but she’d claim her feelings would be hurt if I didn’t accept it.”

“I know what you mean,” Detective Nichols said and smiled like he was agreeing right along with Destiny. “I had an aunt like that, just give, give, give, never knew when to stop. What other presents did Abigail Lannigan give you?”

“Last Christmas she gave me twenty-five-thousand-dollars and she paid for my trip to Palm Beach, Florida.”

“Man! That is really generous! Did she have had a lot of money?”

“Some. Mostly inherited from her brother.”

“Oh, wealthy family?”

“I don’t think so. Miss Abigail said her brother got a lot of money when he sold the family farm.”

“What happened to her estate after she died?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he repeated quizzically. “There was nothing to the estate?”

“No, I mean I haven’t done anything with it. Oh yeah, pay bills and stuff like that, the same things I did when she was alive.”

“Pay bills? Do you still have access to Miss Lannigan’s money?”

“Yes. I can write checks, same as always.”

“The accounts are in your name?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What about her house?”

“I take care of that too. A lot of times I go there and spend the evening, just walking around, touching things, you know, remembering how it used to be.” Destiny smiled as if she saw something the detective did not. “You know,” she said, “a person’s spirit stays in a place long after they’re gone.”

“Wait a minute,” Detective Nichols said, looking more than a bit puzzled, “are you saying you keep that house up so that you can go there and visit with her spirit?”

Destiny nodded.

“Did she leave you the house?”

“I suppose. When she was real bad sick, Miss Abigail told me she wanted me to have all of her worldly possessions. She said she didn’t have any real family and I was the closest thing to a daughter she’d ever known.”

“What about Elliott Emerson?”

“She didn’t like him one little bit. He claimed to be a Baptist like his great granddaddy and Miss Abigail said anyone who didn’t know that her papa was a staunch Methodist, was sure as the devil no Lannigan.”

“I guess she specified that you were to inherit everything in her will?”

Much as I hate to say it, I could see where this was going and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop dear little Destiny from telling the truth, even though the truth would be held up as a lie. Lord help her, I thought, for it was surely up to Him because all I could do was listen.

“It happened so fast, her getting sick like that. There we were in Florida having the time of our lives, drinking champagne and painting our toenails, then next thing I knew the doctor was telling us that Miss Abigail had pancreatic cancer and was dying. She didn’t have time to make up a real will, you know, one prepared by a lawyer, so she wrote her intentions on a piece of paper.”