“Would Kevin sign a statement for Evelyn?” I asked.

Martha slipped off her gold ring and laid it on her blotter.

“Kevin is twenty-four and scared to death of going to jail,” Martha said.

“He won’t sign a thing unless a court officer serves him with a subpoena.”

She pulled her logbook against her chest and shut it.

“I can’t say anything else without a bank lawyer here, Claire,” she said.

By three o’clock the autumn wind had picked up on the north side of town, pushing yellow maple leaves along the curb.