“They will find out the truth in court on Thursday,” I said.

I pulled a heavy black accordion file across the table and began sorting our evidence into labeled sleeves.

The certified lab receipts went into the front pocket, right behind the thick manila envelope Greg had left beside the salt shaker three months ago.

“Arthur’s secretary told Denise that Arthur plans to file for personal bankruptcy on Friday morning,” Lynn said, adjusting her silver bracelet as she sat down beside me.

“He thinks you’ll give up the house title before then to avoid public exposure.”