The G in my real signature finished in a hard, straight stroke that dropped down without curving.

The pen on this sheet had swung back up in a smooth, round oval, like a schoolteacher drawing a ribbon.

“That was signed in my office on a Tuesday afternoon,” Brenda said.

“I was out at lunch.

The teller on duty told me Tiffany walked in with the document already signed.”

“Who witnessed it?” I asked.

“Arthur’s stamp is right there on the seal,” Brenda said.

“Arthur told me yesterday his stamp went missing for a week back in March,” I said.