So why was the box addressed to me? A trick to avoid detection, obviously. And why the story about crockery? Because she didn’t want to involve me. That would be incrimination.

But without being bothered by conscience, I have possibly created a problem.

I get the box from the cupboard, take the money out, put it in two green garbage bags, and put the bags in one of the guest bathrooms (I never have guests). Then I go to the garage, and find the last present I bought myself: a four-in-one hammer drill, $120, free delivery. At the time, it turned out to be much smaller than I thought. It was supposed to be a jackhammer. But now I know it will fit, in parts, into the box. I put the parts in the box with the packing material, and masterfully add the instruction booklet, then tape it up. If Elaine or one of her minions turns up again, I will say I found the box after all, someone must have picked it up accidentally, realised their mistake, and then replaced it. This seems extraordinarily brilliant to me. If Elaine does own the money, she might believe that the box had been picked up and swapped with the hammer drill by someone who knew what she was up to. I am just a neighbourly fuck-up. There was no way she would suspect me of being that clever or daring. I will present it to her unopened, saying I hadn’t ordered anything, so the box has to be hers. Perhaps we will open it together, or maybe I will leave her to it and wait for a response.

And then I hear another engine, and a ute rolls into my driveway and parks in the same spot Elaine had. It is a dirty-yellow, battered tray-back that I know belongs to Ben Ruder, who owns a swag of country at the other end of my road. He’s a successful prick, self-serving, hard as nails, and the sort of person never embarrassed into doing anything for his community or his fellow man. Ben has never bothered to hide his feeling that any farmer with my sort of financial troubles is an idiot and a layabout. He makes his way casually to my front door, not limping, but moving with the cautiousness of someone who could. He is in khaki shorts-and-shirt work clothes, a floppy, grease-stained hat, and looks like he might be down to his last dollar. It is a ruse. He is as wealthy as anyone hereabouts.