In a Hartford Courtroom, Grant Wanted the House Until a Little Purple Toy Started Playing
Natalie reached for her water glass, hesitated, and pulled her hands back into her lap.
“I never wrote up those tax schedules,” she whispered.
“Who handled the signature pages?” I asked.
“Margaret brought the signature sheets into the main office every quarter,” Natalie said.
“She kept the main ledger slips in her desk.”
“Did Grant look over those entries?”
“Margaret told me Grant signed off on every monthly transfer,” Natalie said, her voice sinking to a faint murmur.
“I only filed what got put on my desk.”
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