He held it close to his eyes, ran his fingers over the surface, and then felt the edges. “Wow, it really feels real.”

She chuckled. “That’s because it is real. Now look at this one.” She handed him a second bill.

Jesse repeated his examination. “The ink color’s a little bit darker or more saturated. The paper is a little lighter and not as, I don’t know how to explain it, just not as tough. But I’d be hard-pressed to tell the difference if I wasn’t holding both of them.”

“Note the serial numbers of the first and second bills.”

“Well, they’re different.”

Ethel gave him a third. “Now this one.”

He needed only a few seconds to understand. “The serial numbers are the same.”

“Correct. The paper and the printing are first-rate. Probably a digital photographic process, but creating a new serial number for each bill was a step too complicated.” She pulled a bill from the bottom. “This is also a real hundred. Whoever pulled this money together placed a genuine C-note on top and bottom. The roll could pass a cursory inspection, especially if you were exchanging it in a hurry and in the dark.”

“Do you think that’s what Jonathan was doing?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. More likely he was the one receiving the money. He brought up one bag but was attacked when he returned for the second. I find it hard to believe some exchange was arranged in front of my house. And that doesn’t explain the vehicle damage.”

Jesse returned the money to Ethel, who bound the roll again, leaving out one bill and putting it in her pocket.

“What are you going to do now?” Jesse asked.

“Find the money’s source.”

“Through Bradshaw?”

“Not yet. I won’t say anything on the way to Richmond. Maybe on the way back, depending upon things.”

“Things?”

She nodded. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, there are always things. The unexpected masquerading as something else. Even the expected can hide secrets, so I like to be sure of my footing. Not break my metaphorical hip.”

Tell Ethel the secret. Jesse wondered if Jonathan’s dying sentence meant more to Ethel than she let on.

“Can you skip your classes today?” she asked.

“Yes. I just have one, and I can borrow notes. Do you need me to go to Richmond?”