He took a small metal drive out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the glass toward me.

“That has a copy of every state transaction Cole has logged since September,” Seth said.

“Keep it somewhere away from your house.”

“Why are you doing this for me, Seth?”

He checked his wristwatch again and shut his leather briefcase with two metal snaps.

“Because Maisie deserves an honest accounting,” he said quietly.

I took the little drive and pushed it deep into the side pocket of my coat.

By noon the smell of roasted rosemary pine nuts had filled the estate’s main kitchen.