Miss Featherduster nodded
briskly, "So I'm the proud owner of a François Millet painting.
Is it valuable?"
I shrugged. "Aren't they
all?"
She wouldn't buy that art-lover
line. "Give it to me straight. Have I hit the jackpot?"
Before I could answer, a siren wailed. Out the window I saw the
cops stop in front of my building.
I turned back to Miss Featherduster,
but she was gone.
Ruby, my secretary, came into
my office. "Maybe this'll explain some things." She tossed the
morning's Tribune my way. I read the headline
in disbelief. |