“He thinks you’re just going to sit here and take it,” Paige said, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“My aunt used Arthur Bennett for her probate case in January.

His office is four blocks from the dental clinic.”

“Is he related to Dr.

Bennett?” I asked.

“Brother,” Paige said, setting her phone down next to my ledger.

“He’s at his desk at seven in the morning.”

The strip mall office on High Street smelled of old carpet and paper files.