She tapped the pen four times and looked at the envelope under my arm.

“What’s in there that a judge would want?”

I slid out the top page and held it so she could read it.

Victor’s name.

The ninth.

The line about my father not being in the room.

“That’s a notary admitting he stamped a deed with nobody standing in front of him,” she said.

“You got this at midnight in a kitchen.”