My daughter called me from her wedding suite while I was lying in a hospital bed, still bl:eeding from the ac:cident.

of the documents Clara filed.

“These signatures are terrible,” he said.

“They aren’t mine,” I replied.

He studied me carefully. “You’re awfully calm for a man whose daughter tried to steal his house.”

“I spent thirty-eight years as a forensic accountant,” I said. “Calm is how you catch thieves.”

That was the first thing Clara forgot.

Before I opened my little continue reading …