Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

the expenses.”

“He is not right,” I said.

I rubbed the rust from the clover-shaped bow, keeping the key in my palm as we walked back toward the porch.

By three o’clock, I was standing in the lobby of the Oak Creek Bank, the floorboards polished to a high shine under the vaulted ceiling. Mr. Harrison, the bank manager who had handled my library account continue reading …