“That settles the municipal tax claim,” Vance said, writing a receipt code into his ledger.

“But the corporate assets need immediate hands-on attention before nightfall.”

“What kind of attention?” I asked.

“The fuel supplier is threatening to haul away the storage tanks at the construction yard at six o’clock,” Vance said.

The diesel tanks at the Sterling Construction yard sat cold under the overcast five o’clock sky when I pulled through the chain-link gate.

Frank was sitting on an upturned oil drum outside the maintenance bay, wiping grease off a heavy socket wrench with a stained shop rag.

“The fuel company locked the pumps at noon,” Frank said, looking up as I crossed the crushed gravel.