"Explain this."He didn't raise his voice. He laid the page on the table beside her tea and stood back from it with his hands at his sides, and that was the part he'd rehearsed on the walk home, how to stand. Not leaning. Not looming. A man asking for directions.Camille looked down. The lamp over the dining table lit the page from above, the ruled lines of the diagram, the boxes, the arrows."That's Rainer's handwriting," she said."Read the boxes.""I know what the boxes are.""Then you'll find it quick."She picked it up. She held it by the corners and read it left to right, slowly, like a woman checking a contract for a typo. When she reached the bottom she turned the page over to see whether anything was on the back. Then she set it down, squared it against the edge of the table, and looked at him."This isn't how it works," she said."Excuse me?""He's drawn it wrong. Marrow Street isn't a pass-through. It's a holding entity. The three downstream accounts are separate vehicles w
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