He didn’t just take things from me.

He arranged for me to believe I had thrown them away.

Chapter 10 — Bait

Half an hour later Lenora and I sat in a booth in a downtown diner across from Detective Cordray of the Chicago Police Department’s financial-crimes unit — a calm, unhurried man who was, it turned out, already quietly investigating my uncle Horace for suspicious transfers involving elderly clients.

But the thing he told me next took the ground out from under me more completely than anything Winifred had said.

“Your father contacted me eight days before his stroke,” Cordray said.