He covered the two pages with his arm as the postmaster passed him a box. “Here’s some books you must’ve ordered, and this here’s an open letter from the Liberal candidate, most of the rest is bills and flyers and stuff. Be careful of this one, says you’re eligible to win a million dollars, could be one of those lottery scams.” As Makepeace grudgingly doled out the mail, Arthur found himself squeezed against the counter by Nelson Forbish, peering over his shoulder. “Nelson, you’re squashing me.” “Well, I can’t see, you’ve got your elbow right on the last paragraph.” His heft caused Arthur to give way, and before he could retrieve the fax, Nelson’s camera flashed on it. “Is this for real? Whew. It’s the smoking gun, you got them on the run. Four million, is that what he paid the judge? Who’s this from?” The cover page had fluttered to the floor, and Nelson went down on his knees to photograph it too. “Blast it, Nelson, give me that camera, this is not for public consumption.”
