“That’s about it. This was a major embarrassment for the department. Let’s not even talk about the DA’s office. No one believed Dace was innocent. Some still won’t accept the fact because who wants to take responsibility when you’re that far off? Dace’s attorney uncovered a host of other issues. Crucial reports were ‘lost.’ Exculpatory evidence was swept under the rug.”

Aaron glanced at his watch and signaled the waitress for the check. “There’s more, but it can wait.”

We finished the last of our coffee and Aaron paid the bill. We went out into the morning sun and crossed the street to the bank without saying a word. Dace’s story made chitchat seem inappropriate.

Ted Hill had been watching for us and he held the door open as we approached. Aaron introduced himself and the two men shook hands. Both of us provided photo identification. Aaron had brought a letter from the coroner, identifying the John Doe as R. T. Dace, verifying the date and cause of death, and asking the bank’s cooperation in the matter of the safe deposit box. Hill barely paid attention. Once he’d made up his mind to help, the official folderol didn’t seem to matter to him. Hill introduced us to a teller named Joyce Mount, who would accompany us into the vault. Ted Hill excused himself and suggested Aaron call him later in the day.

Aaron and I went into the vault with Ms. Mount. Aaron used the key we’d found in Dace’s backpack and the teller used the master. In fewer than ten seconds, the safe deposit box was on the table in front of us. Aaron and I pulled up chairs side by side. The teller remained on hand as the bank’s representative, probably as curious as we were about what we’d find.

Aaron removed the contents of the box and fanned out the papers on the table. He had a notebook and he kept a written inventory, cataloging each item as he examined it and passed it on to me. The first was a savings account passbook. He flipped through, looking at a number of entries, and then checked the final balance. He blinked, made a note, and handed it to me.

The account had been opened nine months before on January 8, 1988, which must have been shortly after Dace arrived in town. The initial deposit was $597,500. The last transaction, a withdrawal of $200, was date-stamped October 1, 1988, leaving a balance of $595,350.

I said, “Whoa. I heard he had money, but I had no idea the total was anywhere close to this. I figured a couple of hundred bucks. Where’d it come from?”