Dolores Trench had resigned on Monday, and nobody at Harlow Street Bank would say why."She's no longer with the branch," said the young man at the enquiries desk, and he said it the way people recite a line they were handed that morning. His name badge read Tobias. He had a faint sheen of nerves along his upper lip. "I can put you through to our customer relations line.""I don't want customer relations. I want to know where Ms. Trench went.""I'm afraid I can't discuss the personal circumstances of our staff.""Her circumstances aren't personal. She notarized a record for my uncle on Monday morning and by afternoon she was gone." Caelan kept his voice low and even. He had learned, over years of hostile interviews with plant managers, that softness was more unsettling than volume."That's four days ago. I'd like to know whether resigning was her idea."Tobias glanced at the manager's office, where the blinds were down. He glanced at a security camera. He looked, briefly, like a man