“
Tuesday didn’t hear it. When the knocking started, she’d moved on from the math—51 envelopes times $13,000 equaled $663,000, over half a mil free-floating around the city—to more general research, into Edgar Allan Poe, the other Vincent Price, and for a while she’d gotten sucked into the long and storied history of playing cards— Knock. Someone was knocking on her door. She shook her head. Who the hell would be knocking? It was barely five. She stood up, stretched, rolled her neck on her shoulders. Had someone buzzed a FedEx guy in? But she hadn’t—she didn’t think she’d ordered anything online. If she had, and had forgotten, she was going to have to send it back. This was not the time for impulse internet spending. She opened her door and Death was on the other side. “Ohmygod,” she said, and ducked, coffee-juiced, back behind the door. “You like?
”
”