The Golden Suspect
The resignation letter lay on the mahogany desk, a small white square of defiance against the dark wood, but Arthur Vane’s hand had not yet reached for the pen to sign it. He stood in the corner of Mr. Sterling’s office, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of grey light that cut through the blinds, feeling the familiar, icy weight of the ledger book in his other hand. It was October of...
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