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"Any idea when that was written?" I asked. She took the note and studied it. "I remember this," she said as Edna returned to the room and joined her younger colleague at the counter. "He called Friday and I faxed everything the same day." "Are you working on the same case?" Edna asked. "Same case," I said, "except the FBI's done with it and I'm not." I asked her to photocopy the note for me, then drove to what had been Fontaine's home as I pondered why Polk would've sought copies of the probate documents after the bureau had concluded its investigation. Maybe the local agents had neglected to obtain them and the bureau just wanted to be sure its file was complete. Or maybe the Denver office had managed to lose them and wanted replacement copies. Fontaine's residence was an impressive white structure with tall columns. Just three blocks from the college. Probably built in the early part of the century. Similar homes sat on each side of it, but none was separated by more than thirty feet. There was a covered porch complete with porch swing. Roses were in bloom in front of and along both sides of the house. The same home in Boulder would cost half a million dollars.