“A name I can’t confirm yet.” He adjusted his glasses.

“That account was opened in nineteen eighty-nine.

Your father opened it.”

I squared up the last page on the table and pressed the stamp down, and the red ink of the classification mark took a moment to dry.

“There’s one more item,” Marcus said.

He slid a single sheet over to me.

“A records request came in on your file Thursday.

Filed by a paralegal in Greenwich.”