“She is not just a servant, Mother,” Julian said.

He turned a page, his thumb tracing a signature at the bottom.

“This is Father’s handwriting.”

“I know his signature better than anyone.”

He looked at the date written in black ink.

“It was signed three days before he died,” Julian said.

The wind threw a spray of rain against the high arched windows behind us.

The glass rattled in its lead frames.

“Arthur was not in his right mind during his final days,” Miranda said.

She stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the parquet floor.

“He was medicated.”

“He did not know what he was signing.”

“The medical records say otherwise, Mrs. Sterling,” Investigator Miller said.

The investigator stepped forward and produced a second folder from his coat.

“We have the depositions from his attending physicians at Chicago General.”

“They state he was fully lucid when he signed these releases.”

Miranda’s chest rose and fell rapidly.

She looked at the door, but the two investigators stood blockading the exit.

“This is a conspiracy,” Miranda said.

Her hand went to the pearl necklace at her throat, her fingers twisting the string.