“Many notaries—”
“Is that your seal, ma’am?”
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
“I have notarized thousands of documents,” she said. “I don’t remember each one.”
“Do you remember a signature from a man who had been in the ground for three months?”
No answer.
In the first row, Tatum Brantford’s father had put a hand over his mouth.
Dr. Underhill had closed his eyes.
Jonathan sat very straight at the end of our row, his hands knotted in his lap, not daring to look at either of his parents.
Detective Ridgeway stood.
“Your Honor, if I may. There is one more thing the State would like to enter.”
He set a small clear bag on the clerk’s desk.
Inside lay a gold Rolex Daytona.
“Mr. Ziegler’s watch. Purchased on June third, 2014, for thirty-eight thousand, four hundred dollars. Paid in full from an account titled Talbot Trust.”
The gallery erupted.
Judge Warrick banged the gavel twice.
