I hesitated. "John Nadler."
She turned fully around, her handbag clasped in front of her like a shield and her expression puzzled. "Who?"
"John Nadler, a businessman who recently died." I stopped in front of her and forced a smile. "I believe you're one of his three beneficiaries."
She blinked. "In what way?"
"As in, he's dead and you've been named in his will."
"Why on earth would I be named in the will of a man I don't know?"
"I don't know." I frowned. If she was putting on an act, then it was a good one. And yet there was something about her, an energy radiating off her that had the hackles rising at the back of my neck. "You haven't been contacted by his lawyers?"
"Not that I'm aware of." She hesitated. "But I've been out of town on business for a few weeks. It is possible that their communication is being held at the post office along with my other mail."
Which was a perfectly legitimate excuse, so why didn't I believe it?
"Is that why you're using one of the storage units here? Because you've been away?"
She frowned. "What on earth has my renting a storage unit here got to do with being the beneficiary of a man I don't know?"
"Please, Ms. Sands, just answer the question."
She huffed somewhat haughtily, then said, "I've been renting the unit for several months now. My house is quite small and I needed somewhere secure to stock several valuable items."
I pulled my phone out and pretended to look up some notes. "And is your unit G-18?"
"Yes." She frowned. "I'm really not seeing the connection here."