“The bank fines used up whatever Pamela didn’t take when she walked out,” Arthur said.

“She filed for divorce the next morning.”

I pictured Gregory sitting in Mr.

Miller’s office, adjusting his shirt cuffs and trying to charm his way out of poverty.

I poured the rest of my coffee down the sink and rinsed the cup.

“Where’s Dustin?” I asked.

“He moved in with a friend,” Arthur said.

“He called the bank twice trying to get at the estate funds, but Mr.