Even if we gave them that picture, it’s not like they’re going to arrest you or anything.”
Suddenly, Davis stood up and took off across the golf course.
“This is a completely solvable problem,” I heard him say to himself.
I followed him up the walkway to the cottage, and we went inside.
It was a rustic cabin with wood paneling everywhere, high ceilings, and an astonishing variety of animal heads on the walls.
A plaid, overstuffed couch and matching chairs formed a semicircle facing a massive fireplace.
Davis walked over to the bar area, opened the cabinet above the sink, pulled out a box of Honey Nut Cheerios, and started shaking out its contents.
A few Cheerios poured out of the box into the sink, and then a bundle of bills banded with a strip of paper.
I stepped forward and saw that the wrapping read “$10,000,” which seemed impossible, because the stack was so small—a quarter-inch high at the most.
Another stack came out of the Cheerios box, and then another. He reached up for a box of shredded wheat puffs and repeated the process.
“What—what are you doing?” As he grabbed a third box of cereal, he said, “My dad, he hides them everywhere. These stacks.
I found one inside the living room couch the other day. He hides cash like alcoholics hide vodka bottles.”
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