“Copper piping costs twice what it did last year,” Frank said.

He jingled the heavy ring of master keys on his belt loop and shook his head at the paper.

“Replacing the shower fixtures in Room Seven and fixing the drywall is going to bankrupt me by Christmas.”

I reached into my front pocket and pulled out the cash I had withdrawn from the newly opened trust account.

I peeled off four crisp hundred-dollar bills and set them flat on the counter next to his receipt.

“I’m here for the watch,” I said.