Ninety-One Thousand Dirty Pennies Dumped on a Driveway in Oak Creek

“Twelve,” Dale said.

“I’ll supply the buckets from the garage.”

“I’ll print the flyers tonight,” I said.

For the first time since two o’clock, Dale looked up at me.

“Your desk is still sitting there, Becky,” Dale said.

“Nobody’s laid a finger on your logbook.”

I rubbed my right thumbnail over my knuckles.

“I’ll come by the shop at four and turn in my spare key,” I said.