Arthur came out onto the porch, his wool coat hanging open in the sharp air.

He wasn’t holding his folded newspaper, and his hands hung limp at his sides.

“The lead investigator says my name is on three of Julian’s escrow deposit receipts,” Arthur said.

“It is,” I said, standing three feet away by the porch railing.

“I didn’t know the money came from defense contracts,” he said.

He gazed out over the empty street where Julian’s Audi had been parked an hour earlier.

“Julian told me it was private bridge financing for his firm.”