“That’s an understatement.”
Richard opened the folder.
Inside were architectural sketches, invoices, letters, and photographs of furniture.
I leaned forward.
The first photograph showed a long walnut desk with hand-cut dovetails and a distinctive pattern of inlaid brass.
I knew the craftsmanship immediately.
It was my father’s work.
I had seen him make that same brass inlay on a small jewelry box he gave my mother when I was a child.
I touched the edge of the photograph.
“Where did you find this?”
“In the private project archive of Mark Carrington,” Richard said. “Your father was commissioned to build several custom pieces for a residential project approximately fourteen years ago.”
I looked at Diane.
She was staring at the photograph.
“That desk,” she whispered.
“What?” I asked.
She turned to the attorney.
“Where is it?”
Richard glanced at his notes.
“The desk itself is believed to have been placed in storage after Mr. Carrington’s death. We haven’t located it yet.”
