“I phoned First Federal at two o’clock,” I said.

Grant stopped, his fingers resting on the polished handle of his knife.

“Did you, now?”

“I asked for the transaction receipts on the forty-one thousand dollars,” I said.

“I want to see which commercial land account the wire went into.”

Grant adjusted the knot of his silk tie with his thumb and forefinger, smoothing the blue fabric flat against his chest.

“Emily,” he said, his voice slipping into the smooth, even tone he used with nervous commercial tenants.