“She is neither,” Graham interjected, leaning forward, his hands flat on the table. “She has nothing to do with this. Henderson, look at the signature pages we submitted last week. My partner signed them. The funds are supposed to be wired by five o’clock.”

“Your partner,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Do you mean Arthur Pendelton?”

Graham’s chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Yes,” Graham said. “Arthur. He approved the transfer of the collateral.”

I reached into Sterling’s briefcase, which he had opened and placed on the corner of the table.

I pulled out a single sheet of paper and slid it across the mahogany surface toward Henderson.

“Arthur Pendelton passed away three weeks ago in a hospice care facility in San Antonio,” I said.

The silence in the room became absolute.

Graham’s lawyer reached over and snatched the paper before Henderson could touch it.

The lawyer’s eyes scanned the document, his face losing what little color it had.

“This is a death certificate,” the lawyer whispered, looking at Graham.

“That’s a mistake,” Graham said, his voice shaking. “Arthur is in Cabo. He’s on vacation. He signed the corporate resolution via DocuSign last Thursday.”