“There are no property filings in here, Alejandro,” Oscar said, his eyes scanning the silk lining.

“Just her personal checkbook and some sketching pencils.”

Alejandro let go of the strap, and the purse dropped back against my hip.

“My mother wants you back at the house in Zapopan before five,” Alejandro said.

“She has guests coming from the country club.”

“I have work at the studio,” I said.

“You have duties in Zapopan,” Alejandro said, turning his back on me.

“Stop wandering around legal offices putting on airs.”