one of your candles, a rug catches fire, and you burn the place down?”
Alyssa ignored me. She worked from home, everyone in the building knew this, so it was assumed she would sign for deliveries. I wonder how much mail traffic found a home in her column. Virgo: You will get something important in the post, possibly bad news. Ignore it. She followed me up the stairs chattering about the Chernobyl disaster. In her column she had written: Capricorns: Beware of explosive and poisonous workplace situations. This could be time to consider a new form of employment. It looked like she was going to follow me inside.
“So who’s writing to you from Iran? Are you an arms smuggler? There’s no return address, but I looked at the stamps.”
“Yes, bombs are mailed to me in packages just like this one.”
“It’s too small.”
“These are only bomb-making instructions. I run a Do It Yourself operation. The bigger operators have warehouses out in Queens and live on Park Avenue. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“When later?”
“Maybe tonight. Thanks for signing for the package.” She lingered in the doorway as if she expected me to invite her in, so I would open the package in her presence. I didn’t want to be rude to Alyssa, but was compelled to practically shut the door in her face.
“I’ll bring the vodka this time,” I heard her say in a singsong voice from the stairs. I opened the package. Inside was a long letter in Farsi.
Dear Ariel,
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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