15Exhaustion hit me with a series of one-two punches by the time I reached home. My body felt like a football the Chicago Bears had used to scrimmage with all season. I owed some of my fatigue to the duck I ate. Eating duck for both lunch and dinner was no easy matter. Nor was the episode with Mona and the Black Llama. But the case was all but closed now. Finito. I sank into bed without setting the alarm clock. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
And it did. My brain was racing a hundred miles an hour by the time the city was waking, yawning, and getting ready for what lay ahead. I wondered about Mona and what craziness had made an ordinary six-foot-five blonde who loved to dribble a basketball turn to crime. And I reflected upon my near-miss with Mr. Death. If Sadie Plotz had not arrived in
