“I should have looked harder at those coffee mugs, Raymond,” Frank said, his gravelly voice dropping lower.

“I saw you getting weaker and figured it was just the years catching up with us.

I nearly let him take your chair.”

“Garrett built a solid wall of paper around it,” I said.

“Nobody saw through it until Rebecca showed us where to look.”

“She’s staying at the Junius Street place?” Frank asked.

“She’s settled in,” I said.

“The room is clean and quiet.”