We needed to separate what I knew from what I suspected.

We also needed to understand the role of the notary.

“I recognize the name,” Simone said when she read Lila Grant’s acknowledgment.

“Does that mean she’s part of it?”

“It means we need to learn whether she actually performed these notarizations.”

She made an appointment with a forensic document examiner and asked me to create a timeline.

We marked the date of each HOA letter, the approximate time it was delivered, and any photograph or witness that established where I had been.

When I mentioned the document bearing my father’s signature after his death, Simone stopped writing.

“Bring me a certified copy of his death certificate,” she said.

“I have one.”

“Good.”

She looked at me over the top of her glasses.

“Aaron, don’t confront Brenda about the bank account until we know more.”

I promised I would not.

It was a promise I would keep until the day she changed my locks.

The seventh house belonged to Ruth Calder, who had lived alone until a fall sent her to a rehabilitation center.

Her niece, Evelyn, handled her mail but lived two counties away.

I found Evelyn’s number through a note Ruth had once left in my mailbox asking me to water her tomatoes.

When I explained the alleged HOA transfer, Evelyn asked me to repeat the date.

“Aunt Ruth was in surgery that morning,” she said.

“She couldn’t have signed anything.”

Evelyn sent me the hospital admission record after speaking with her aunt’s attorney.

She also shared a photograph taken in Ruth’s room on the afternoon of the supposed signing.

Ruth’s dominant hand was wrapped in a thick protective splint.

Evelyn wanted to drive down and confront Brenda immediately.

I asked her to speak to Simone first.

“We need documents that survive a courtroom,” I said.

“Not an argument that ends up on neighborhood social media.”

Evelyn laughed bitterly.

“Brenda has already posted that the association rescued my aunt’s house from abandonment.”

She sent a screenshot of the post.

According to Brenda, Cedar Grove had stepped in to protect property values and recover unpaid community obligations.

The photograph accompanying the statement showed Ruth’s front garden with dead flowers and an overgrown path.

I had taken that same photograph the previous summer to show Ruth the garden while she was recovering.

The path had looked clean then.

The online picture had been cropped to hide the freshly cut grass.