Boston Real Estate, a Greenwich Mansion, and Five Attorneys

March 14, two years ago, with Arthur’s initials in blue ink at the foot of every page.

The phone buzzed again.

Victoria.

Thomas answered, listened, and set it down without a word.

“She wanted to know if anybody had come to see me,” he said.

“And what did you tell her?”

“That I was with a client at the moment.”

“Don’t tell her anything more.”