DURST: 30-Second Mysteries

SMOKING KILLSMinutes after the reading of his mother's will, Roberts was dead. So was his wife, his mistress, the butler and the guy who followed him around with the solar powered satellite dish in the little red wagon. And his dog didn't look too good either. They all had weird spatula scars on their foreheads which made me suspect the cook. Good thought. Bad timing. She had me arched over the fourth floor balcony railing with the razor sharp spatula dripping bloody at my neck. "But what about the scars?" She slapped me fast on the forehead. "Oh. Oww." "Yes. Always stupid questions." "Just tell me one thing. Why?" She slapped me again. "Everybody asks same stupid question. Finally I will answer. Because she left me out of will. I was her daughter. And her sister. And..." "But she didn't leave you out. You got 10 million. Didn't you hear that part?" "Oh. Well, I did duck out for a cigarette..."FAUXGIRLAs the cab entered a tunnel we played footsy the rest of the way to her penthouse in the Missile Building. I had let her pick me up in the Hot Dog Gallery at the donut exhibit. While she made Hi-balls, her hall closet shelf revealed twenty Thirteenth Century Provence Vases with little red silos along the rim. Exact replicas of the one she had ripped off from the museum. Collectors were loathe to complain the stolen antiquity they spent 200 grand for was bogus, and she had squirreled away millions. I walked over and kissed her hard. My hand wandered south, where I found something unexpected. It seemed nothing about her was as it seemed. Tonight was going to be... interesting.

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