“I’ll run this registry number through the state database,” Arthur said.

“I’ll have a name for you by Monday morning.”

I asked him for a paper copy of the lien.

He pulled the second page loose and handed it to me.

I folded the page in half and slipped it into my faded blue folder.

I pressed the heavy document flat against the cardboard and snapped the metal clasp shut.

At fifteen hundred hours I parked my old sedan in front of the downtown diner.

Aunt Martha was already sitting in a corner booth.