At Eleven, She Moved In. At Six, I Changed The Locks.

them look right.

The locksmith, whose name turned out to be Neil, drank a cup of black coffee at my invitation and waited by the front door with saintly patience.

Deputy Collins took notes in a small pad.

I sat at the island with my binder open and wrote up a simple ledger sheet for any rent payment that might actually appear. I doubted it would.

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