“She took sixty cents on the dollar in store cash so she could cover Chelsea’s credit card bill.”

“She’s selling off whatever she can get her hands on because Arthur is out of cash,” Monica said, putting her glasses back on.

“Did you book your appointment at the auto registry for this afternoon?”

“Two thirty,” I said.

“I unbolted my Oregon license plates in your driveway an hour ago.”

The Sacramento auto registry office on 24th Street smelled of damp rain jackets and warm paper from the heavy desktop printers.

I pulled ticket number forty-two from the red plastic dispenser by the entrance and waited on a low wooden bench until the bell chimed over counter four.