Forty-One Thousand Dollars and a Yellow Paper Envelope
I said nothing.
“One hundred fifty,” Frank said, “and I don’t ask where it came from, and you don’t tell anyone I run a pawn shop out of a motel.” He reached under the counter and brought up a cash drawer.
“That’s fine.”
He counted out fives and a twenty and two tens and laid them flat, then dropped the watch into the drawer with the receipts.
It knocked against the metal trays.