“We need to look at the master archived ledgers from eleven years ago.”

He shut the volume with a heavy thud that raised a small cloud of paper dust across his desk.

We walked three blocks down High Street to the Portsmouth Municipal Building, where the air smelled of floor wax and old wool coats.

Clara Potts sat behind her glass window on the first floor.

She lined up her yellow highlighters side by side on her counter before looking up at us through her bifocals.

“You two are back early,” Clara said.