“I am the executor named in the 2022 codicil,” Arthur said.

“That codicil was never signed,” Victoria insisted.

“We will let the judge decide that on Monday,” Arthur said.

“Until then, this property is locked,” Victoria said.

“Not quite,” Arthur said.

He tapped the folded paper against the iron bar.

“I went to Judge Miller’s house this morning,” Arthur said.

Victoria froze, her face going slightly pale under the brim of her umbrella.

“Judge Miller is a family friend,” she said.

“He was Garrett’s friend first,” Arthur corrected.

“What did you do, Arthur?” Charles asked, taking another step forward.

“I showed him the logbooks from Garrett’s study,” Arthur said.

“Those logbooks are private property,” Victoria hissed.

“They are evidence of probate fraud,” Arthur said.

The wind howled through the wet oak trees, shaking loose a shower of cold droplets.

I watched Victoria’s knuckles turn white against the handle of her umbrella.

“There is no fraud,” she said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“Then you won’t mind if we look for the original documents,” Arthur said.

“You are not setting foot on this property,” Victoria said.