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His eyebrows gnarled in concern “Hell, it’s possible that all our clients are lying to us,” he said, in a tone that suggested the obviousness of that proposition He glanced sidelong at me as he sipped his coffee “Why?” he asked

“Well, I was just thinking, Brad does have a bit of a history”

Walt shotit rather delicately, isn’t it?”

“I can be less delicate, if you prefer He’s had legal problems before”

“Frat house high jinks” He pulled a sour face “Frankly, I think er at me “But I don’t think Brad’s a criminal”

“When we spoke, he struck umentative”

Walt waved a hand “The boy was just nervous and tired of answering questions”

“Sure,” I said I wasn’t buying it “We’d better hope the audit clears hies, Brad won’t respond well to a cop’s third degree He could barely stand the first degree”

“I know, I know” Walt held up a placating hand “When someone checks the computer system there, I hope it shows that a hacker created that account”

“Yes,” I said “I hope so I also hope the corees to do it, and whatever they find clears Brad I intend to run a background check on Brad when I do one on his old boss, Darrell Cooper, and the guy who previously held Brad’s job Vince whats-his-name”

“Vince Marzetti”

“Right You would do that with any other client”

I turned from Walt Brad stood at the kitchen door Tall and hunched the way tall people often are, he was in his mid-twenties His face was boyish, with soft, delicate features and sandy-blond hair Brad’s glance drifted uarded and his mouth set in a sullen line I wondered how much he’d heard of our conversation

“Hi, Uncle Walt,” he said

“Brad, reet hiive him a one-armed embrace “You remember Sam?”