The sound bounced off the high ceiling of the lobby.

“Canceled by who?” I asked.

“Brandon Mitchell,” Arthur said.

“He authorized a full stop on the corporate disbursement three days ago.”

Three days ago was the afternoon we’d stood in the funeral home picking out Evelyn’s casket.

Arthur passed the printed ledger across the polished wooden counter.

A line of dark ink showed a zero balance on the pending transfer.

The column for the two-thousand-dollar trust deposits was entirely empty.