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I had stayed there for more than four hours, and then driven straight home. If I wasn't wrong, which I usually am, that address was the studio/home of...the artist who had signed both paintings.My course of action was obvious.--------I sat in my car in her driveway and tried to reign in my thoughts. On one hand, it had been more than fifteen years since my wife and I had visited the cottage to pick up the painting of the cat, and I knew I hadn't been there since. On the other hand, her late model. "That's right, we did," Jill said, "but we picked the wrong guy."Looking at Jill for the first time since catching her looking at her breasts, Joan sputtered, "So tell me, how is it you know we picked the wrong guy?" It's obvious, Joan. He wasn't really hung like a goddamn horse." What?" The guy we wanted must have had the day off, or else he was off somewhere screwing some bitch with his foot-long dong." Jill took a gulp of her drink and stared directly at her friend."Foot-long?" Joan. More

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