Eight Hundred Thousand Dollars and a Missing Name on a Ledger

the two different ledgers on his desk.

He was fifty-nine years old, with sharp, impatient eyes that stayed fixed on the photocopy of the March 9 entries.

He picked up a yellow pencil from his desk organizer and began tapping the eraser end against the green blotter.

“These are copies, Lydia, not originals,” he said, his voice coming in rapid, legalistic continue reading …