A marriage certificate names more people than any other paper a character owns: two spouses, four parents, two witnesses and whoever married them. Every one of them is a lead, and the witness nobody at the address has ever heard of is the best of them.
One A4 page laid out like the certified copy an office hands over the counter: the issuing authority, the record and certificate numbers, the husband and the wife with their ages, occupations, homes and parents, the date and place of the wedding, who solemnised it, the two witnesses, the surname taken, the attestation, a box for remarks, the place and date of issue and the registrar’s signature. Click any line to rename its printed title or take it off the form, and drag the seal wherever the clerk would have pressed it.
Five styles: a 1920s county copy typed into a printed blank under a raised seal, an Eastern Bloc abridged extract with a violet stamp and a divorce in the margin, a modern certificate on guilloche security paper, a fantasy temple’s book of unions under red wax, and a space colony’s register of partnerships with a hologram. The wedding portrait that went on the mantelpiece is a Photograph, and the notice the family put in the paper is a Press Clipping.