Johnny Dollar.

Lucian Peterson here.

Luke, how are you?

Just fine, Johnny, how are you?

Still out there, dear old Seattle wash?

Yep.

And still holding down a job with Western Maritime in life.

You are I am.

Well, let's say I'm trying to, but at the rate we've been putting off on claims lately on some of my own clients.

Well, the home office doesn't like me too well.

Something's phony about some of those claims, maybe? No, but they've all been big ones. Half a million here, quarter million there, six hundred thousand just last week.

No wonder the company doesn't like it. So right now, I don't want to have to pay off on

Mrs. Myra Brittingham. That is if I point, Johnny. She isn't. Mm-hmm.

Not yet.

Oh.

But maybe somebody would like to see her that way?

I don't know, but I think so.

Maybe this hunch of mine is all wrong, Johnny.

And I'll just admit that this feeling, this worry of mine is nothing more than a hunch.

If I would tell the police about it, they'd probably laugh in my face.

I don't know, Luke.

I'd have some pretty wild huntsers work out for me more than once.

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