Rebecca came out onto the porch carrying a garment bag.

She reached for the collar of her beige coat, undid the top horn button, smoothed the lapel, and buttoned it again.

I picked up my phone and dialed the number I had written on the back of my hand.

Across the street, Rebecca set the bag on a chair and pressed her phone to her ear.

“Yes?” she said.

“I have fifty thousand dollars in escrow at Arthur Vance’s office,” I said.

Rebecca froze on the porch step.