21
The next afternoon, Shay stopped by Richie’s home. “That laptop was a treasure trove,” he said. “Everything we need. I’d like to hold on to it for a while, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Richie said. The two men sat in the living room. Shay had a cup of tea, and Richie poured himself some coffee, anxious to hear what Shay had learned, even though he hated the thought of learning that Isabella's death was more than tragic—but was murder, the details of which were becoming clearer all the time. Still, he was glad he could finally think about and talk about Isabella without needing strong liquor at his side.
“It was the bank’s laptop,” Shay continued. “I’m surprised they hadn’t demanded it back, except that whoever was behind the holding company scheme probably feared asking for it would
