I took a seat opposite Evan as Alan and his associates settled in at the head of the table. I kept my eyes on the attorneys, determined not to glance Evan’s way. “Are we still waiting on the rest?”
“No,” he said. “All the beneficiaries are present.”
“Oh.”
The female associate scribbled a note, then smiled at me with unnaturally white teeth. “A great deal of your uncle’s property was in trust and passes outside of probate.”
I nodded as if I understood what that meant.
Alan cleared his throat. “As you both know, Howard Jahn amassed an extensive collection of art and artifacts in addition to his cash, securities, and real property holdings.”
Considering I lived in the condo—which was practically a museum—I knew it well.
“Not long before his death, Mr. Jahn did a major overhaul regarding his estate. He added extensively to the trust for the benefit of the Jahn Foundation. Everything from cash down to the smallest coin in his collection. So extensively, in fact, that only three bequests remain to be distributed through his will. We are here today to address those items.” He cleared his throat, opened the folder in front of him, and began reading.
“To my good friend Evan Black, I leave my six-shot, nickel-plated, dual-action Colt revolver, which once belonged to Al Capone himself, in the hopes that he will remember to always watch his back and to take nothing for granted.”
I bit back an ironic grin. I knew that Evan had always admired the gun, which Jahn had kept mounted in a shadow box in his study. But if Kevin was right about Evan’s extracurricular activities, then that made the bequest all the more appropriate.
Evan looked amused as well, but sobered when Alan added that Uncle Jahn also left him a letter. “He presented it to me the day he revised his will, and asked that I give it to you contemporaneously with the bequest.”
“Am I the only one to receive a letter?” Evan asked, and though he didn’t say, I was certain that he was wondering about Cole and Tyler, both of whom were conspicuous by their absence.
Alan shook his head. “No. I was entrusted with several. Shall we move on?”
Evan nodded.
“To my beloved niece—”
“Wait.”
We both looked at Evan.
“Shouldn’t you finish the bequests to me?”
Alan pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I have, Mr. Black. As I explained, Mr. Jahn significantly overhauled his trust, his will, and his bequests just a few weeks ago.”
“I see,” Evan said, though it was clear that he didn’t. Alan regarded him for a moment, then nodded as if in satisfaction, and turned back to me.
“To my beloved niece, Angelina Raine, sometimes referred to as Angie or Lina, I leave my penthouse condo—including the adjacent servant’s quarters—as well as all furnishings and property remaining in my estate.” Alan looked up at me. “You should understand that most items of value within the condo are included in the trust. What is referred to here are the more simple household items such as furniture, pots, pans, bath towels. He also created a trust to cover Peterson’s salary—as well as a one-time bonus—along with the annual property taxes and monthly maintenance fees. I’ll be administering that trust for you, but the condo will be in your name. If you choose to rent it or sell it, you are fully empowered to do so, though if you do part with the property, the maintenance trust will be folded into the foundation, less a severance package for Peterson.”
“Oh.” My head was swimming. “Okay.”
“In addition to the property and contents thereof, your uncle left you one specific bequest of personal property. Though it is located in the condo and not part of the trust, he was very clear that he wanted there to be no dispute as to his wish that this item go to you.” He rattled the papers again, then cleared his throat. “Also to my beloved Lina, I leave my facsimile copy of Leonardo da Vinci’s Creature Notebook, as I have come to realize that she will undoubtedly understand and appreciate the true value of this item and my bequest.”
“Lina?” I murmured. Why the hell had he referred to me as Lina?
But no one heard my soft query, as it was buried under Evan’s very loud outburst.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He was on his feet, more animated than I’d seen him all morning. “He left the Da Vinci notebook to Angie?”
“What the hell is your problem?” I snapped. “He knew I loved that piece. Why shouldn’t he leave it to me?”
Evan ignored me entirely, his full attention focused on Alan, his expression so intense that I half wondered why the attorney didn’t toss down the folder and run for his life.
“When?” Evan growled.
“I—I’m sorry?”
I watched as Evan took three deep breaths, gathering himself with obvious effort. “When did Howard revise his will?”
With a start, I realized that I was five steps behind everyone else. Evan wasn’t upset because I was getting the notebook. He was upset because until Jahn changed the will, he’d been getting the notebook.
Alan glanced at his associates, both of whom started rapidly flipping through documents. “About a month ago,” the guy finally said. “On April third.”
“I see,” Evan said, though from the curious way he eyed me—the first time he’d looked directly at me all day—I could tell that he didn’t see at all.
I, however, thought that I did, and I drew in a sharp breath. That was the day Jahn bailed me out of jail. The day I’d told him the truth about Gracie.