The Faded Alibi
The ledger was not a book of truth, Arthur Vane thought, watching the ink smudge under his thumb, but a machine for burying the living, a mechanical beast that chewed up the evidence of human error and excreted only the profit. He had spent forty years in the basement of the Meridian Insurance Exchange, breathing the dust of policies and the faint, sulfurous tang of the gas lines that ran...
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