“You don’t know him,” Val said bitterly.

Mr. Trotman looked at his watch. “In the meantime, how would you like to settle the bill for this consultation? I made it quite clear that only the first one was free.”

Val stared at him. “You know I don’t have any money. I can’t pay you unless you make Tony give me my inheritance.”

He cleared his throat. “My secretary will agree terms with you: a weekly sum until the bill is paid.”

Val stood up, alarmed. “But you’ve done nothing. What am I paying you for?”

Mr. Trotman rang a buzzer on his phone and asked his secretary to escort Val to the door. “My invoice will be in the mail,” he said.

She opened her mouth to argue, then decided not to bother. Let him sue! She swept all the papers into her shopping bag and hurried out without another word.

* * *

After the meeting, Val felt fired up with rage and drove to the city-center bank where her father had held a safe deposit box. She marched up to the counter, showed the letter, and asked the clerk if she could see inside the box.

She was asked to take a seat while the young man made a phone call and went to talk to one of his colleagues. Val glanced at the clock on the wall: two fifteen. She had to collect Nicole from school at three.

After seven long minutes, an older man in glasses and a suit with buttons straining over a potbelly came to talk to her.

“Mrs. Doyle,” he began, “I’m afraid your husband emptied the deposit box a few weeks ago. I guess he forgot to tell you.” He handed the receipt back to her.

“Are you sure it’s the same one? It was in my father’s name: Irwin Scott. Not Doyle.”

“Exactly. Your husband signed our termination-of-rental form when he took the possessions away. I have a copy here.” Val checked the document. He’d emptied it just days after she left him. The bastard. “Do you remember what was in it?”

“I’m afraid not. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be at liberty to tell you.”

Val was livid. He had been her father; it was her property now. “Might I use your telephone?” she asked. “I need to check with my husband that it was him who came here and not an impostor. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it.”

The man hesitated, then agreed. He led her to a side office and showed her how to press the button on the phone for an outside line, then hovered in the doorway as she called Tony’s office.

When he answered, she launched straight in. “Tony, what was in my dad’s safe deposit box? I have a right to know.”