She was calling about my late father.
I almost laughed.
My father had been dead for thirteen years. His estate had been settled. His tools were in my workshop, his old photographs were in a box in my closet, and the few belongings he’d left behind had become part of the ordinary furniture of my life.
“What about him?” I asked.
“There is a document in an archive connected to an architectural firm. Your name appears in the associated records. The attorney would like to meet with you.”
I asked for an explanation.
She said it would be easier to understand in person.
My first thought was that it had to be a mistake.
My second was that I didn’t have time for another mystery.
But something in her voice made me agree to meet.
The appointment was scheduled for Friday morning.
When I told Diane about the call, she went strangely still.
