“Gerald came to my office ten years ago asking for a commercial loan without collateral,” Arthur said.

“When I refused him, he told the bank board I was holding a grudge.

He has been telling stories in this town for thirty years.”

“Today those stories stop,” David said.

At one o’clock, I went back to my room on the third floor of the Greenfield Inn.

The afternoon sun filled the room, lighting up the dust above the patterned green carpet.

I unzipped my garment bag and took out my formal navy linen dress.