A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“It is a limited offer,” Brinley said, her tone slipping back into that cool, rapid-fire corporate rhythm. “If we have to file our formal boundary petition with the county planning commission on Monday, this waiver is off the table.”
“Then I guess it is off the table,” I said.
She picked up her paper, folded it with three precise snaps of her wrists, and slid it back into her pocket. She did not touch the basket of rolls. “We tried to resolve this the neighborly way, Arthur. Remember that when the graders start working.”
She turned and walked down the drive, her boots kicking up small puffs of gray dust.
I watched her go, then walked over to the oil drum. I picked up the basket of pecan rolls and carried it to the ditch at the edge of the county road. I tipped the basket over, watching the warm pastries tumble into the tall, dry brome grass where the local crows would find them before noon.
At one o’clock, I sat in the small, narrow conference room of Sarah’s law office. The radiator in the corner was hissing and clinking, releasing a dry heat that smelled of old paint.
