I have looked at that notebook many times since, and it never stops astonishing me — not only for what it contained, but for what it revealed about the woman who kept it.

My mother, whom Richard had dismissed as a nosy old hag, whom the whole world was primed to see as a confused and fading old lady, had in fact spent months conducting a patient, methodical, terrifyingly competent investigation of the man trying to destroy her family.

She had recorded him.

She had followed the trail of the money in her tight careful hand.

She had noted license plates and dates and dollar amounts.

She had photographed a meeting.