“Then you’re out five hundred dollars,” Gary said.

I unzipped the front pocket of my purse and took out the envelope.

I counted five crisp hundred-dollar bills onto the blotter beside his stacked yellow pads.

“How long until you have the paper in your hand?” I asked.

“Three o’clock,” Gary said, sweeping the cash into his desk drawer.

At ten past three, Edward met me in the employee parking lot behind the logistics office.

We got into my Buick, and I drove us six blocks over to Birch Street.