“The Project Four accounting file came back four hundred dollars short on the sub-tier ledger, Arthur,” Nathaniel said, rubbing his right wrist where his gold watch sat loose against his skin.

Arthur stopped walking and straightened his silver tie bar with two quick fingers.

“I told you on Christmas Eve, workers come and go in commercial framing,” Arthur said, his broad smile narrowing into a flat line.

“Seasonal labor is unpredictable.”

“Martha Miller didn’t just vanish,” Nathaniel said, tapping the edge of a red oak plank with the brass tip of his rule.

“Her name was on the main drywall finish log until the twentieth, then wiped off the master roster without any exit paperwork.”