Raymond pushed himself up out of the armchair, planted his cane firmly on the porch carpet, and stood up straight.

He walked four steady steps toward us, moving smoothly and deliberately.

“Arthur brought the court receiver papers over at noon,” Raymond said, pointing his cane at a small glass table where two thick manila folders lay.

“Did you sign the legal order for Christopher’s personal accounts?” I asked.

“I signed every page,” Raymond said.

“Christopher’s real estate holdings in Seattle were seized to cover the estate’s losses.”

He looked down at me, his dark eyes sharp and attentive.