Arthur bent toward me.

“The pink slip is in my breast pocket.

It goes back into your sideboard drawer tonight, and I don’t want it sitting in my office one day longer than this case requires.”

Then he added something else, more quietly, about the funeral supply warehouse in Akron not returning his calls.

“It’s a business, Brenda.

Businesses pick up the phone.”

The deputies came around the rail, and one of them told Victoria to place her hands behind her back.

Julian turned and found me in the seat I’d been in since eight fifteen that morning.