What Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong
“Tell you what,” said Kelo Printz, client turned perp, “you can keep the painting.” He laid one of the film cans on the hall table. “It’s probably worth something, plus it’s kind of creepy.” Worth something. Did that make him a client again? I wasn’t sure. He opened the door and backed out, film can under one arm, gun pointed at Bernie. Backing out, so he didn’t see Iggy, standing right outside the door, wagging his stubby tail.
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