7Monday was another day, another week. But for some reason I didn't have the old Monday workday blues. Maybe it was because I had had the Sunday blues. Maybe it was because I almost never had any work to do on Mondays. And maybe, just maybe, it was because I had a good feeling about finding Mona.
I walked up the stairs to my office cheerfully whistling “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” En route I read the riot act to a vagrant who was sleeping in the stairwell. The sight of that scruffy guy nearly broke my good mood.
Dotty was ferreting through the file cabinet when I opened the door at 10:18. She was either cleaning dustballs or looking for the remains of an old sandwich that one of us might have left. As far as I could tell, it had been a long time since the cabinet had housed anything
