The dog had been a nagging worry to me; I hadn't wanted her carted off to a pound, but neither had I felt comfortable saying anything to the neighbors...ahead of time. It was a small comfort, especially since Brownie was visibly nervous as they began searching the house.Once at headquarters they took the usual photos and, of course, fingerprints, Lee's and mine. Then they herded us into separate rooms and left me, at least, alone for a while, presumably to stew about my situation.I didn't stew, I. On one wall, over a wood burning fireplace, was an oil portrait of Susan Worth. Now I don't know much about art, I just know what I like and I really liked this painting. Susan was sitting on a plain chair with no arms. Her legs were crossed and her arms were folded across in front of her holding her opposite shoulders and she wore a beautiful smile; and that's all.Mr. Worth walked over to me as I stared at the portrait. "She screwed the artist too," he said with more than a little disgust and. More

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