“Can you tell me if the withdrawals were made in person?”

“I can’t answer that,” the teller said.

I left the bank window and walked out into the chilly air, holding the returned check in my fist.

By three o’clock I was standing on the asphalt driveway outside Julian’s house on Oak Creek Court.

His black Lexus sat parked near the garage, washed so clean the yellow maple leaves reflected off the hood.

I walked past his wife’s potted ferns on the porch and rang the doorbell once.