The Faded Alibi
The ink in the ledger was not merely black; it was a deep, viscous violet, the color of bruised plums or the shadow of a dying star. I remember the smell of it most clearly. It smelled of wet iron and old paper, a scent that had seeped into the weave of my wool suit until it became part of my skin. We were in the Great Hall of the Ashworth & Sons Insurance Company, a cavernous room in the...
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