He read through three full pages without a word, his mouth set in a thin, neutral line.

“When did you record this conversation?” Arthur asked, pointing his fountain pen at the black recorder.

“Twenty minutes before the wedding was supposed to start,” I said.

“He admits on that recording that he took the twelve thousand dollars from our joint account without my knowledge or consent.”

Arthur leaned back in his leather desk chair, resting his elbows on the wooden arms and folding his hands over the bank papers.

“This isn’t a simple disagreement over canceled wedding costs,” Arthur said.