My supposed signature.
A date.
I stopped.
“I didn’t sign this.”
“I know.”
“You compared it?”
“Against documents you signed in person last month.”
He put them beside one another.
The imitation was good enough to survive a quick glance.
The spacing was wrong.
The last letter was wrong.
Most importantly, I remembered where I had actually been on the date printed beneath it.
Manhattan.
Sterling board luncheon.
Building access confirmed.
Arthur placed the original authorization beside the copy.
Same amount.
Same date.