When, in the backwash of the 1929 Wall Street crash, his business (whose employees are all clad in chocolate-box lilac) suffers a downturn, he concocts a plot of murder and insurance fraud that launches him toward the roiling underworld from which prosperity had shielded him.

NEWYORKER: Despair

Note that your will and the deed to your cemetery plot, if you have bought one, should not go into your safe deposit box.

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