Arthur slid the thick envelope into his desk drawer and turned a small brass key.

He took off his glasses to polish them on his wide brown tie.

“Give me two days to pull the original court files from the county basement,” Arthur said.

“You think the papers are still down there?” I asked.

“Your grandmother kept her personal copies in a rusted butter cookie tin, but the official orders went to the state archives.”

“I just gave you the last of my savings,” I said.