Ryan was, at that point, handing a man in a used-car lot twenty thousand dollars, cash, in a paper bag and the title and registration for his old car, in exchange for a three-year-old BMW 328 with only twenty-nine thousand miles on it that he had just test-driven. “Count it,” Ryan said.

“Sign here, here, and here,” the salesman said, handing him a clipboard and a pen and starting to count. “My girl is getting the title now.”

Ten minutes later, Ryan was tooling up the avenue and turning into the parking lot in front of a new apartment building with a huge banner draped across it, advertising its contents. Ryan found the agent, dozing in a chair outside the front door, and demanded to be shown the two models, a one- and a two-bedroom. He liked them both. “Let me see your lease,” he said to the man.

The agent handed it to him, along with another printed sheet. “You need to fill out the application,” he said, waving a pen.

Ryan finished reading the lease, filled out the application, signed it, and handed it back.

“I’ll have to get this approved by my boss,” the agent said.

“Just tell him I’m a retired cop,” Ryan said, flashing his badge, “and he’ll approve it quick. There’s nothing a landlord likes better than a tenant with a badge. Now I’m going to go out to my car and get you cash for the security deposit and two months’ rent—make sure you tell him cash. And there’s five hundred in it for you if you get me the one-bedroom with the furniture left in it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the man said, and walked into the kitchen to use his phone while Ryan went to the car, opened the trunk, and counted out the money. When he came back, the man counted it, handed him a lease to sign, and put two sets of keys on the kitchen counter. “Your parking space number in the garage is one-oh-one,” he said, “since you’re our first tenant.”

Ryan raked the keys off the counter. “I’m going to get my stuff, and I’ll be back in an hour. I assume there’s no problem with parking a motorcycle in some dead space near my car.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

“Then you come with me and drive my car back. I’ll ride the bike. It’s only ten minutes away.”

“Sure thing.”

—

An hour later, Ryan sat back in his new, reclining chair and switched on the TV, but it didn’t come on. He got up and inspected it, found it to be a display dummy.

“Well, shit,” he said aloud. “Now I have to go TV shopping.” He went into the bedroom and pulled back the cover. “Sheets, too.”

—