Julian Vance was standing at the end of my row with his hands in his coat pockets.

“You need to quit digging through my bank records,” he said.

“My accountants have been hit with two subpoenas in eight days.”

“They’ll get more.”

“That firm of yours answers to a board, Arthur.

A board that reads the newspaper.” He straightened one cuff link, then the other.

“I can make one phone call about the discovery you’re fishing in, and your partners will do the math.”

I pulled the tablet out of my bag and held it up.