“Did you print the signature verification card from my personal inheritance file?”

Donald reached back into the brown accordion file and took out a heavy gray card in a clear plastic sleeve.

“I pulled this out of the vault before I left the building at five,” Donald said.

“Look at the third line from the top.”

I leaned in toward the table beneath the yellow hanging lamp.

The signature on the third line was in blue ballpoint ink, but the letters leaned hard to the left, nothing like my own forward-tilting hand.

“That’s not my writing,” I said.