Evans,” I said.

He stopped three feet away, his grip tightening on his umbrella.

“Mrs.

Keller,” he said, his voice flat and slow.

“I… told… your… lawyer… I… have… no… comment… on… closed… files.”

“My lawyer has the bank receipt from November twelfth, eleven years ago,” I said.

Evans touched his chin with the knuckle of his thumb.

“I… don’t… know… what… you… mean,” he said.