“What are you looking at?”
“There’s no toilet paper here so I was wondering if anyone was about to bring me some from one of the other cubicles,” I replied. That was pretty good improvisation, I thought.
A roll of toilet paper was pushed under the door to me.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
I waited until it sounded quiet and then gingerly, I opened my cubicle door to see if it was clear, and then hurried out and off to catch the bus home. Because of my espionage work, I had to catch the later bus and Sharon was not on it, so I could not tell her how I had enjoyed my afternoon at the drama class.
The very next day, Sergeant Robertson telephoned me to say that they had retrieved the golden urn from a pawnshop and had the name and address of the person who took it in to the shop. They had
