Arthur pushed the forged deed back across the desk with a shaking hand.

I folded the paper into my coat pocket and went out into the heat before Arthur could come up with another excuse.

At eight fifteen the next morning I was standing at the glass counter inside the First Tennessee branch on Commerce Street.

Brenda pulled up the lake lot account on her screen, her fingers clicking fast on the keys.

“I need a cashier’s check for forty-one thousand dollars,” I said.