“Your mother’s private assets are fully documented,” Arthur said, closing his pen cap with a quiet click.

“The title company released the keys to her at nine o’clock.”

“This has to be a mistake,” Renee said, peering past Arthur into the freshly painted kitchen.

“She was getting by on Social Security checks and seventy dollars a week out of our grocery budget.”

“I paid the four-hundred-dollar pool pump bill out of my own checkbook,” I said.

“And I paid two dollars for a slip of paper at the gas station on Shea.”

Daniel laid the deed down on the edge of the table, his gaze moving across the broad living room windows toward the pecan tree in the side yard.