I sat across from him and rubbed my gold wedding ring, waiting for him to speak.
Julian adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses by the bridge. “David, I ran the reconciliation on your primary business operating account. There is a series of small, matching withdrawals starting three months ago.”
“What kind of withdrawals?” I asked.
“Four hundred dollars every Tuesday,” Julian said. “Always at an ATM on Flatbush Avenue. But that is not what concerns me.”
“Flatbush is three blocks from my mother’s brownstone,” I said. “She goes to the market there every Tuesday afternoon.”
“I know,” Julian said. “The cash was taken during her usual shopping hours. But the card used was a duplicate business debit card issued to your name.”
He turned a page over, the paper crisp in the quiet room.
“I checked the corporate registration with the state database,” Julian said. “Your engineering firm has a secondary filing listing an address in Queens. I did not know you had a branch office.”
