The Glass House Deception
ACT I The envelope was thin, cream-colored, and expensive—the kind of thing that meant money and trouble in equal measure. Jack Mercer opened it in the dim light of his office, the neon sign from the bar across the street painting his desk in intermittent slashes of red. Inside was a deed. A deed to a property in upstate New York—a crumbling stone building, the papers said, that had belonged to...
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