Forty-One Thousand Two Hundred Dollars Hidden in the Cardboard Box

“Is it?” I asked, wringing the wet rag out into the drain.

“Nineteen eighty-three,” Edward said.

“The county building records are in the basement files.”

I dried my hands on a paper towel, pulled my phone out of my sweater pocket, and held the screen out to him.

“Look at this message,” I said.

Edward took the phone, held it six inches from his nose, and read the text without moving his lips or blinking.

“He wants an RSVP by Friday,” Edward said.