“No.” She opened the screen door and let it swing shut behind her.

The latch clicked and didn’t catch.

At two on Monday I laid the blue ledger on Arthur Vance’s conference table.

Vance opened it to a page with a dog-eared corner.

The trust entries ran down the page in blue ink, six hundred fifty dollars at a time.

“Civil damages on this file aren’t subtle,” he said.

“Fraud, conversion, attorney fees.

Punitive damages.