The signature at the bottom was a Dr.

Marcus Vance’s, dated exactly twelve days before Walter died in his sleep.

“They’re telling a judge he was incompetent,” I said, running my finger along the cold black print.

“Walter finished the Sunday crossword in blue ink three days before he died,” Helen said, her knuckles going pale as she pressed her hand flat against the oak.

I took my phone out of my purse and dialed Thomas Bellamy’s direct office line.

He picked up on the second ring.