I can show you a copy if you sign the bank’s records request.”

“I want the copy.”

Franklin walked to a heavy oak credenza and pulled a manila folder from the second drawer.

The peppermint stayed on the table, still wrapped in cellophane.

He set the folder in front of me and smoothed the flap with his thumb.

The wire sheet had two signatures at the bottom.

One was the bank officer’s.

The other was supposed to be Lucas’s.