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tapping a rhythmic beat against the cover.
He stopped when he saw me, his eyes dropping to my handbag and then back to my face.
“Mrs. Whitfield,” Vance said, his voice quiet and perfectly measured. “I need to speak with your husband before the main toast. He is not answering his office line.”
“He is busy with his family, Joseph,” I said. “Is there an continue reading …
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