The room smelled of old paper, cedar shelves and cold tea.

Vance spread the contents of the blue envelope out over a wide oak desk under a heavy brass reading lamp.

He took a magnifying glass out of a drawer and held it over a land transfer deed dated August 14, six years earlier.

“Look at the slant on the G in Graham,” Vance said.

I bent down into the round pool of yellow light.

“Daniel’s hand didn’t write this signature.