Ian neither noticed nor took offense. He sat back in his father’s recliner, legs crossed at the ankles and fingers entwined across his midriff, totally at ease. Wilmot said, “I’m surprised that Glenphiddie Island would hold much attraction for you.” “Most boring place on Earth, but Uncle John and I were working on launching a new band.” He frowned. “It’ll be harder now without him, but with my inheritance I’ll still be all right. Uncle John said he’d take care of me. Has the will been read yet?” “You’ll have to talk to his lawyer about the will. Did John Vibald talk about the past?” Ian laughed. “Nothing else.” “Did he talk about a singer named Ace, the woman staying at Mrs. Vibald’s?” “Not that I ever heard, but my dad said she has some really good songs. I’m going up later to see for myself.” “Your father said nothing about knowing her in the past, about her days singing with Vortex?”
