“There won’t ever be a second signature on my account,” I said.

I took sixty dollars in cash out of my coat pocket and laid three twenty-dollar bills on the desk blotter.

Nancy counted the money twice, slid the bills into a metal cash tray and printed a white deposit slip from her machine.

“Your balance is sixty dollars even,” Nancy said, tucking the receipt into a paper sleeve.

“What became of the joint account David opened last month?” I asked.

“The state banking authority froze it Tuesday afternoon,” Nancy said, dropping her voice a little.