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unnerved.
    â€œI didn’t actually take anything.” She stared at her lap, wringing her hands. “Joyce warned I might spot irregularities between the 430 form—that’s a delivery document—and a few of the purchase orders for the downtown restaurants. She asked me to ignore the 430 and just invoice based on the purchase order. She said it was a family crisis and that nobody would be hurt. It only happened a few times and I looked the other way because, like I said, I like Joyce and I know what it’s like to have family rely on you.”
    â€œYou did more than look the other way.” Don’s voice was raised and Rona shifted in her chair. “By knowingly charging those restaurants for items they didn’t receive, you were part of a conspiracy to commit fraud.” Don sounded like the police officer he once was.
    Rona lost her reserve. She sobbed into her hands. Charlie looked at Don who gave her an “I couldn’t help myself” look. Silence filled the room until Rona could speak again. She turned toward Charlie and pleaded for understanding.
    â€œI know it was wrong, and I’m tremendously sorry. I told Mr. Abrams, I’ve never done anything like that before. He fired me, but he said he wasn’t going to file a complaint against me and I’ve been helping the police with the case. I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it.”
    Rona’s mother called out to her from upstairs and Rona took off her glasses and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her blouse, then excused herself.
    â€œThat was just great, Mr. Sensitivity.” Charlie glared at Don.
    â€œYeah yeah, well I’m getting tired of hearing about what a great gal this Stringer was,” Don huffed. “Anyway,” he said changing the subject, “did you hear what she said about the brother? He had a different father. Did Judy say he was using a different last name?”
    â€œNo, but it’s something we should check into. Look, when Rona returns I’ll ask her a couple of questions about Paul. I’d appreciate it if you would just observe.”
    Don shrugged and reached for another Danish.

Chapter 5
    Don and Charlie sped to the border. It was nearly rush hour, and if they could cross the Ambassador Bridge in the next half hour they’d get into downtown Detroit before the peak traffic.
    â€œWe need to give Abrams a briefing tomorrow and if the Alabama lead pans out, he’ll have to approve our travel.”
    â€œYou sure you want me to go and not Gil?”
    â€œI think you’re better for this trip. You never know what we’ll run into in the South. We might have to work both sides of the street to get anything accomplished.”
    Over the last few years, Charlie and Don had reached a pragmatic approach around race and gender, using their differences to full advantage. As a white male, there were doors Don could more easily walk through than Charlie. On the other hand, being a woman had often been the key to getting a recalcitrant witness to open up. When they dealt with law enforcement in other jurisdictions, Don always took the lead, not just because he had been a cop but because he fit most people’s idea of what an investigator looked like. But Charlie could visit any black business or organization, Don at her heels, playing up the “sister in charge” act and information would pour like syrup on pancakes.
    Their song and dance had worked with Rona. She opened up to Charlie about the challenges of being her mother’s primary caregiver and Charlie shared information about her own sixty-eight-year-old mother, who had an assisted-living apartment in Detroit’s New Center area. They chatted awhile about the pros and cons of aging parents living at home, and agreed many boomers would have to face this decision sooner or later. When Don went out to the porch,pretending to need a smoke, Rona recalled the document Joyce had