“Not unless a judge signs an authorization order,” Arthur said.

“Look at the seal stamped beneath your father’s signature.”

I turned the page and examined the blue ink impression by the margin.

The stamp carried the seal of a local notary public whose license had lapsed four years earlier.

“Arthur,” I said.

“This stamp matches the second notary stamp Richard keeps in his desk drawer.”

“Your father always manages to find a legal phrase to cover every dollar he takes,” Arthur said, drawing a small index card out of his vest.

“Back in ninety-four, your grandfather’s handwritten ledger entries recorded specific bank account numbers.