She signed her name in clear cursive across the bottom line of both pages.

“Does Frank know you’ve got this?” she asked, giving me back the pen.

“Not yet,” I said, slipping the signed pages into my briefcase.

By two o’clock the afternoon sun was striking the tall glass windows of Evelyn’s law office on Main Street.

Evelyn read the assistant’s signed affidavit twice, tracing the ink signature at the bottom of page two with her fingers.

Then I set the yellowed 1984 land abstract on her desk blotter, right next to Keith’s handwritten signature analysis.