Forty-One Thousand Dollars and a Yellow Paper Envelope

“That’s what a guilty man says, Mason.

Not always.

But often enough.”

Dot came by and filled his cup.

He let her.

“You think I did it,” I said.

“I think I’m sixty-five years old and I have a reputation in this town.

I think I signed off on audit reports for your father for twenty years.” He folded his napkin.