|
“Yes, they are,” Ms. Kenney
said. “But first, I want you to meet my daughter.”
A younger version of Ms. Kenney walked
through the screen door onto the porch. “Well, Mr. Murphy,
it is a pleasure.”
Frankie suddenly heard footsteps behind
him. He turned. A police detective walked up the steps. “Mr.
Murphy, you're under arrest.”
Frankie stood there, frozen, as the
detective began handcuffing him.
Ms. Kenney pointed her finger at him. “I
had a bad feeling about you, young man. As soon as
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|
you left, I called my daughter at work. You
see, she just got a job as a dispatcher at the police station. As
a rule, they tape all incoming calls. After I told her about you,
she played the tape for the detective here.”
Frankie looked down, unable to believe
his misfortune. All of his future dollars, gone in an instant.
"Well, Mr. Murphy," Ms. Kenney said,
"it looks like you'll be spending New Year's Eve right where you belong--behind
bars." |
