“He might have kept them in the house,” I said, pausing to look under a metal tool chest. “But without the keys to the Shelby, we can’t even check the glove box.”
“We need the physical title and the registration,” Walter said, his voice carrying his usual formal, legalistic tone. “An estate of this nature requires strict adherence to documentation.”
He placed his glasses back on his nose and peered at a stack of old car manuals.
“Did he ever mention moving his files out here?” I asked.
“He did not,” Walter said, looking around the dim room. “But his sudden silence on these matters concerns me.”
He coughed softly, his shoulders sinking slightly under his heavy coat, before he turned back to the shelves.
“He seemed tired when I saw him last month,” I said, watching Walter closely. “Did he say anything about his health?”
“We discussed the future of the estate,” Walter said, his tone remaining strictly professional. “He was adamant that his personal belongings be distributed according to his specific instructions.”
