It was clarity.
“What did he borrow?” I asked.
“We don’t know everything yet.”
Martin tapped the last page.
“But this one concerns me.”
It was a promissory note.
Two million dollars.
Borrower: Brandon Reeves.
Due date: Friday.
Lender: Halden Private Group.
I frowned. “Who are they?”
“Not a bank.”
That was all Martin said.
That was all he needed to say.
I sat back and stared at the name.
Halden Private Group.
I had spent forty years around money. I knew respectable money. I knew hungry money. I knew quiet money that smelled faintly of cigar smoke and offshore accounts. Halden sounded like the kind that did not send polite reminders.
“What did he put up?” I asked.
Martin’s face tightened.
“The house.”
I stared at him.
“He couldn’t,” I said.
“He didn’t legally. But he represented that he had beneficial ownership and that title transfer was pending.”
