It’s asking the bank to verify a guest account.”

“Julian isn’t on any Apex account.”

“Then somebody asked the bank whether you were.”

Gordon clicked his pen.

The Apex Club was a private club near the county line, the kind of place with brass railings and valet parking.

I had been inside once, for a vendor dinner.

I remembered the little leather folders they brought the checks in.

“A corporate membership costs twelve thousand a year,” I said.