Many of the pieces of furniture were antiques, inheritedfrom her grandparents, but Mom had always insisted on using them not asdisplays but as everyda... furniture. Her logic was that that's what theyhad been built for and not to be displayed as artwork. "I'm glad to see that you kept these things," I stated as I ran my handsover an oak bookcase. "I've always loved this piece." "Well, when you settle down, it's yours," she replied. "Come on, let'shave dinner and we can talk." Dinner was an old. "Oh, yes, of course," said James, fumbling in his coat pocket for the plastic card. The girl sighed with impatience. He pushed it into the slot in front of him.The girl's attention went to her computer screen. James realised he was staring at her, noticing how the white of her bra straps showed through her crisp white blouse and how the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck escaped over her collar. She turned round suddenly. He almost fell over backwards. "Police interview last night, eh?" she. More

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