The Wistful Witness
The invoice for the missing ledger was for four thousand dollars, a sum that weighed on Elias Thorne’s chest like a sack of wet sand, yet it was the debt to the bookmakers in the basement of the Ritz that truly held the noose around his neck. He had counted the bills in his wallet three times that morning, the green rectangles feeling thin and flimsy against his thumb, knowing that the...
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