Eight forty-three.

Then I climbed into the van and drove back to my shop with the deed copy on the passenger seat.

By ten on Monday, Arthur Vance had the blinds in his conference room half open.

Evelyn Thorne, the handwriting expert, sat at the table with a lighted magnifier and a black felt pad.

She laid the quitclaim deed under the lamp.

“Your signature isn’t the problem,” she said.