Chapter 31

Because we’re dead, I start counting the

money out, why not? I’m sure we won’t get much more business today.

Fingering the dingy bills, I hope I sound nonchalant when I ask,

“How much of the deposit yesterday actually made it into the

bank?”

“Most of it,” he says, evasive. He had

that extra twenty in his pocket, so I know he didn’t use a lot of

it for drink, but the bail had to be a pretty penny. “A hundred

fifty,” he tells me before I ask.

“You put that in?” I want to know.

There was a hellof a lot more money than that in

yesterday’s bag. If he just put in a hundred fifty

dollars—

But Kent shakes his head. “That’s what they

charged me.” He doesn’t say it was the police and I don’t mention

the incident, but it hangs between us like a loaded gun, waiting to

go off and shatter this uneasy peace. “Plus seventy-five to get the

bumper hammered out, and fifty at the store.” Seeing my frown, he

says, “I put most of it in the bank, don’t worry.”