He had a red shop rag hanging out of his back pocket and a thick brown accordion folder held flat against his ribs.

“The trust lawyer had everything ready by seven,” Dale said, turning to walk in with me.

“Did Arthur sign his piece?” I asked.

“Arthur stayed at the law office till nine last night,” Dale said.

“He notarized the final affidavit himself.

His hands were shaking, but the seal came out clean.”

We went into the land records room on the second floor.

The ceiling was high and white, and two long oak tables ran down the middle of the room under bright lights.