Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

Cross was already there, polishing his wire-rimmed glasses with a white microfiber cloth. A white ceramic teapot sat between us, steam rising from the spout.

“You look tired, Eleanor,” Raymond said, setting his glasses back on his nose. “This case is starting to look like a very long hill to climb.”

“We are simply organizing the files, Raymond,” I said,continue reading …