“Three thousand for the car,” I said.

“Keep fifteen hundred for gas and whatever else you need.”

“The title’s clean,” Dale said, eyeing the money on the nightstand without reaching for it.

“Her nephew’s signing it over today.

No state tax paper, no electronic registration till next month.”

“Put it in your cousin’s name,” I told him.

“Park it on Eighth Avenue behind the tire shop and leave the key under the driver’s seat.”

Dale cleared his throat, a low rasp deep in his chest.