“I knew there was a reason she kept harping on what the flowers cost.”

We walked two blocks to a quiet parking garage behind the bank.

The private investigator was waiting on the third level in a gray sedan.

The concrete garage was cold and dim.

He wore a plain navy windbreaker.

I didn’t ask his name, and he didn’t give it.

I went up to the driver’s side window and passed the thick envelope through the open window.

He took it and tossed it on the passenger seat.