Mel must have opened her purse and looked at the check hidden inside no less than forty times as she rode the streetcar from the Quarter into the business district. From there it was only a short walk to Tamara Jones’s office.
As she entered the shiny building, she caught sight of herself in the glass door.
She was relieved to see that she did not look like a fortune teller today. She’d decided on simple black slacks and a loose blouse. Her hair was natural, with a scarf cutting across the top of her head to help give it shape.
And she still wore her bangles. Mel never went without her bangles.
But by all other accounts, she looked as calm and professional as a woman could with over thirty thousand dollars in her purse.
thirtythousand dollarsIf I don’t stop looking in my purse, someon
