Chapter 6 - A Signature That Didn't Belong
"Dad, can you sign this for me?"
Back home, I laid a clean sheet of paper beside his soup bowl. I didn't show him the closing notice first. Leah had asked me to avoid suggesting answers.
He wrote WALTER J. MERCER in careful, rounded capitals, lifting the pen only once. The signature on the notice was a looping scribble. Simone had forged a name she had seen on birthday cards, not business documents.
"Someone's using your signature," I said.
Dad examined the notice for a long time.
"That isn't mine. And that isn't the price."
"You recognize the property?"
"Of course. Eleanor and I bought it with money we saved delivering newspapers, painting houses, and eating beans for supper."
The purchase price showed $780,000. The county had valued the parcel above $2 million. The price was suspicious.
"Why would they sell it cheap?" I asked.
"Because the old rail spur is coming back." Dad's mouth tightened. "The county plans a commercial access road next to the shop. Land values will jump. Nolan knows. He asked me about it."
He'd refused to sell to Nolan in July. The trouble began in August.
"We need the original deed," I said.
Dad reached into his shirt pocket and showed me a tiny brass key tied to a piece of blue thread.
"What is that?"
"Your mother's sewing box key. Don't laugh. The box has a false bottom. She hid Christmas money there when you were little."
"And now?"
"After Simone started taking things, I put a copy of my old ledger inside. It shows who really owns what. But the box is in my workshop apartment."
I could drive there in twenty minutes. It was almost midnight, and Dad needed to rest after his exam at urgent care. I promised we'd go in the morning, after speaking with Leah.
He gripped my wrist.
"No," he said. "She was at the shop yesterday. She told Nolan to clear the apartment before Tuesday."
My phone lit up with a security notification from the workshop. CAMERA 3 OFFLINE.
May you like
Then another.
REAR DOOR OPENED, 11:47 P.M.
