He picked up his gold fountain pen and started writing on a yellow legal pad, ignoring the yellow receipt lying between us.

“Was she paying somebody off in Tyler?” I asked.

Arthur put his pen down with a loud, sharp crack against the mahogany.

“If you push this, Ona, you’ll find yourself in very expensive, tedious, exhausting legal trouble,” he said.

“I suggest you take your piece of paper and leave my office.”

I rubbed my left thumb across my right knuckles until the skin turned hot and red.

“You helped her keep something from me,” I said.