My signature was written at the bottom in thick blue ink, a perfect imitation of the loop I used on my payroll checks.
“Who is the co-signer?” I asked, my voice tight.
Vance pointed to the line directly below mine.
“The secondary guarantor is listed as Eleanor Miller,” she said.
I stared at my mother’s name, written in her sharp, elegant script.
“She signed this?” I asked.
“It was notarized at a branch in Queens,” Vance said. “The notary is currently being questioned.”
“Did you ever lease a property at eighty-two Northern Boulevard?” Vance asked.
“No,” I said. “That is an industrial park. I have never done business there.”
“A payment of twelve thousand dollars was sent to a firm called Queens Concrete and Supply from that account,” Vance said. “Do you know them?”
“No,” I said. “We do not do concrete procurement. We only write the design specifications.”
