“It’s no big deal. Why don’t you call the company and tell them you made a mistake? Have them come pick up the package and return it to the sender.”

“I thought of that myself. The problem is I didn’t pay attention to the name of the courier so I have no idea who to call.”

“Isn’t there a label that gives the name?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“What about the locksmith? You think he’d remember?”

“He was changing the lock on the back door, so he didn’t see the truck.”

“Did you look in the yellow pages?”

“I did, but none of the names looked familiar. That’s the reason I called. I could open the package, but I didn’t want to do anything without talking to you first in case you wanted to be on hand.”

“Go ahead and open it. There’s no point in my driving up if it’s trivial. Are we talking about a box or a padded envelope?”

“A box, a big one, and sealed with so much packing tape it might as well be waterproof. Hold on a minute. I’m putting the phone down so I can tackle this. I can’t tell you how relieved I am you didn’t condemn what I did.”

“I’m happy to offer absolution if it makes you feel better,” I said.

I listened to a stretch of Vivian breathing and making remarks to herself, a running account of her progress, accompanied by the sound of paper tearing. “Okay, got the wrapping off. Oh, rats. The box is taped shut around the edges. Let me get a kitchen knife.”

A silence while she labored and then she said, “Oh.”

“‘Oh,’ meaning what?”

“I’ve never seen so much cash in my life.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I pushed the speed limit and an hour and a half later, I rang the bell and she opened the door, her face pale and drawn. She peered at the street behind me and hurried me in. She closed the door and leaned her back against it, saying, “Things just got worse.”

“What now?”

She moved to the living room windows and lowered the shades. “After we hung up, I assembled my embroidery supplies. I have my stitching group at three and my cousin is picking me up a few minutes before. I wanted to have everything ready.”

I made a rolling gesture with one hand, hoping she’d get to the point. “Next thing I knew, someone knocked on my door.”

“Why am I thinking Uh-oh? Was this the courier?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t say so, but he implied he was. He said a package had been delivered erroneously and he’d come to pick it up.”

“Erroneously? He actually said that?”

“He did and it seemed like an odd choice of words. Aside from the fact he wasn’t wearing a uniform, I couldn’t see handing over all that cash to a man I’d never laid eyes on. It didn’t seem right.”

“So far, so good. I can’t wait to hear what you did.”

“I told him I didn’t have it. I said I notified the company a package was delivered to the wrong address and they picked it up half an hour before.”

“And he believed you?”

“I suppose. He didn’t seem happy, but there wasn’t much he could do.”

“Ah. So he didn’t know you’d opened it.”

“He might have. The box was sitting right there.”

I looked over at the dining room table, which was clearly visible from where I stood. She’d placed the lid upside down on the box to conceal the cash, but the wrapping paper was in plain sight. I crossed to the table and set the lid to one side. I stared at the money with the same admiration and disbelief she’d expressed on the phone. I nudged the brown paper wrapping, turning it over with the kitchen knife she’d used to cut the tape. The return address was a post office box in Santa Monica. I copied the number into my notebook and returned to a study of the cash. “How much do you think we’re looking at?”

“No telling, but I don’t think we should touch anything.”

“Hey, I’m with you. I don’t want my fingerprints showing up on this thing. Bad enough you handled the package before we knew what it was.”

The box was roughly twelve by twelve by twelve, packed with bundles of bills, the uppermost of which were hundreds.

Vivian said, “What do you think we should do?”

“Turn it over to the police.”

“And say what? Isn’t it against the law to intercept someone else’s mail?”