“Anyway,” Fritz continued, “I managed to contact the author, who coincidentally lives in this very city.”

“And?” Zooey prodded.

“Well, we talked on the phone and he sounded really insane, as most writers are, I know from experience. But anyway, I told him about Miyoko and having his manuscript, apparently the idiot only had one copy, the one Miyoko stole.”

“And so he paid you a bunch of money as a reward for returning it?” Zooey asked with raised eyebrows.

“Not quite,” Fritz said.

“Apparently he’s some kind of trust-funder who inherited a bunch of stuff, like, a loft apartment and money and apparently this place,” he said as he gestured towards where they stood.

“So,” Zooey said, “You’re telling me that this psycho guy traded you a manuscript for some old bar he inherited?”

“Pretty much,” Fritz said with a shrug.