“And where were you on October fourteenth, Emily?” Richard asked.

He stood up from his leather armchair and walked over to stand behind my shoulder.

His hand rested lightly on the back of my chair, not quite touching me, but offering a steady presence.

“I was at the hospital,” I said. “I didn’t leave his side for three days. The girls were with Mrs. Alvarez.”

“You couldn’t have signed a deed transfer in Greenwich while sitting in a hospital room in Manhattan,” Nora said.

“But Thomas Vale came to the house two weeks after the funeral,” I said. “That was in November. He told me the papers were to finalize the transfer of the townhouse to Margaret.”

“He lied to you,” Nora said simply.

She scrolled down the document to the signature page.

There was a signature that looked remarkably like mine, written in shaky blue ink.

Below it was the signature of a notary public.

“The notary is a secretary in Thomas Vale’s office,” Nora said. “She certified that you signed this in her presence on October fourteenth.”

“I have never met that woman in my life,” I said.