CHAPTER 17TUESDAY, OCTOBER 3
Throckmorton was sitting in his home office staring out the window. Piles of paperwork sat on the desk around and between two computer screens. The bookshelves were filled with notebooks containing printouts of his client’s financial data. Through a partly open window, he could hear Ben playing with a friend in the backyard. It sounded like the kids were having a great day.
The phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. It was John Olson, Frieda’s husband.
“Hey, Chris,” John said. “It’s about dinner tomorrow night. Frieda—”
Throckmorton smiled at the thought of Frieda’s cooking. A reprieve was welcome. “I can skip dinner if you and Frieda have something else going on. I’ll go over the books with you and eat at Gert’s.”
“I’d join you if Frieda would let us
