Dale sat behind his broad mahogany desk in a charcoal suit that matched the gray of his carpet.

He picked a white folder off the top of a stack, squared its corners against his blotter, and laid it open between us.

“I pulled the wire authorization logs you asked about on the phone, Raymond,” Dale said in his formal, careful voice.

He tapped a silver pen against the edge of a three-page printout.

“The forty-one thousand two hundred dollars left the main payroll account on October twenty-fourth at nine fourteen p.m.,” Dale said.

“It was sent to an offshore holding account,” I said.