Forty-One Thousand Dollars and a Yellow Paper Envelope
“The buyer’s money.
Where is it coming from?”
“That’s the question I’ve been saving.”
“Save it for the table.
Don’t spend it in an alley.”
He called Victor Vance at eleven and told him to come alone.
Victor arrived at midnight with his coat still buttoned and a small cloth bag in his fist, and he sat down without opening either.
“I’ve held my license eleven years,” he said.
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