“An older man,” Mr.

Vance said, looking toward the street.

“Gray hair, wire-rimmed glasses.

He was wearing a heavy brown work jacket with a grease stain on the shoulder.

He was standing in the vestibule, looking at the mailboxes.”

My throat felt dry.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“He asked me which unit belonged to Mara Bell,” Vance said.