CARLSON let the phone drop onto the polished mahogany table with a dull thud. He tilted his head back against the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to squeeze out the irritation pulsing in his temples.

“Can you imagine?” he scoffed, voice laced with mocking disbelief. “Your wife called me.”

Stanley, lounging in the high-backed armchair across from him, let out a low chuckle, the corners of his mouth twisting with wry amusement.

“Ex-wife you mean” he corrected smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. “I made sure of that many years ago, remember?”

Carlson rolled his eyes, his lips curling...