There were other copies of the file. The lawyers for the bank would have a complete record. It wouldn’t require much more research to find out who they were, but they would never hand over a file containing client information to Ted. That left only the lawyer for this Miller lady. And the one thing Ted remembered from his momentary glance at Richie’s copy of the file was the name Jacqueline Clavette. And he had just seen her leaving the building.

The vandalism was bizarre. Criminal. Was he being played? Conned somehow? The thought that finding Lester had been much too easy—too perfect—came again.

“He was working this on his own,” Ted said. “What are you thinking?”

Lester shrugged again. “People talk. Everybody knew Richie was on to something big.”

Lester was holding back—Ted could feel it. He looked down at the useless papers and slammed the folder shut. “Hand this in. We’re out of here.”

The bottom line was that Ted was in violation of his own rule. The big ones were always a waste of time.

Lester put a hand on his arm. “Hold up. We can’t turn in the file like this. You’ve got to report it.”

Ted stood. “I want nothing to do with this. This case was bogus from the get-go. It’s cursed.”

“You have to report it. Otherwise you’re the last one to have the file. If somebody else takes it out, you get the blame.”

Ted sat down again. Lester was right and had saved him from possible embarrassment—at the least. A fine and a harangue from an outraged judge would have been equally as likely. “Of course. Thank you.” Ted relaxed, his fears of Lester’s true intentions fading—for the moment.

“Yup. Be cool. Go up there and complain, but don’t get up in their faces about it. See if you can find out who had the file last.”

Ted thought it through. There might be a way to finesse it. “And what will you be doing?”

“I’ll see what I can get out of the guards. We can meet up outside.”

The heavy bearded man wasn’t at the counter when Ted stepped up, cutting the line and braving the outraged looks. A harried-looking woman in a turtleneck and winged eyeglasses gave Ted the kind of scrutiny made to make a mendicant feel like a sinner. It worked. He considered abandoning the plan and simply leaving the file in the returns box.

“Watcha got, hon?” Having won the stare down, she softened ever so slightly.

He showed her the butchered file. “The other guy gave me this a couple of minutes ago. Who would have vandalized records this way? Who had it out last?”

“Oh, jeezy-peezy. I don’t have time for this today.” She turned away and shouted over the filing cabinets: “Hey, Jimbo! Get out here. We got a problem.”