Chapter 13: The Register Tablet

Dean's apartment was a one-bedroom over a laundromat, and the whole stairwell smelled of dryer sheets.

Elias walked me up three flights and stopped at the door.

"I'll be in the car," he said. "Call when you want me."

"You could come in."

"It's your meeting."

He touched the necklace at my collar once and went back down.

Inside, a dozen people from Hollander Brewing sat on Dean's couch, his floor and his kitchen counters.

Some of them held paychecks, and some held cold coffee.

Dean stood up fast when I came in.

His eyes were red, and he hadn't shaved in three days.

"I didn't know if you'd come," he said.

"You called me."

"I know. I still didn't know."

The head server, the woman in the apron, moved over on the couch and patted the cushion.

I sat down between her and the dishwasher.

The dishwasher held up his bounced check without a word.

"Three weeks," he said finally. "My wife is due in January."

"You'll be paid," I said. "I can't tell you how yet. I can tell you I won't stop until you are."

He nodded and folded the check back into his shirt pocket.

Dean turned his laptop around on the coffee table.

"I need to show you something," he said. "Then I need to say something. And I need you not to make it easier."

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