Miller and two mechanics,” I said.

Irene reached into her paper bag and took out a little glass mason jar full of thick yellow paste.

She set it down carefully on the bench between us.

“It’s vinegar, flour, and coarse salt,” Irene said in her careful Midwestern voice.

“It gets heavy motor lube off copper quicker than store-bought soap.”

“We only got through three thousand coins over the weekend,” I said, looking down at my hands.

“There are eighty-eight thousand five hundred still sitting dirty in plastic tubs on my porch.”