Arthur Whitmore Demanded A False Alibi For Caleb In Columbus Parking Garage
I walked into the kitchen and set my keys on the counter.
The white envelope Arthur had pushed across the table at the coffee shop was sticking out of my coat pocket.
I pulled it out and set it on the table.
“He left this with me,” I said.
Mr.
Vance looked at the thick white packet of hundred-dollar bills.
I slid Arthur’s envelope of cash back across my kitchen table.
My father did not reach for the envelope.
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