Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

at the photocopy of the loan receipt I had placed on the green leather blotter. I waited for him to speak.

“The handwriting on this signature is not my sister’s, Mr. Henderson,” I said, pointing to the awkward, shaking curves of Martha’s name at the bottom of the page.

Donald did not flinch, nor did he look at the paper I had provided.

“We are talking continue reading …