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company’s emergency number and grabbed the telephone.
    â€œEvergreen Alarm Systems, what is your code?” an exceedingly calm woman singsonged.
    â€œI accidentally set off the alarm in my studio! How do I turn it off?”
    â€œI’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ll need the code before I can assist you in disabling the alarm.”
    â€œI don’t have the code!” I yelled, the persistent clamor jangling my nerves. “It’s a new alarm system and I don’t have the code!”
    â€œIf you are a legal tenant you were provided with the code.”
    â€œI have no code!”
    â€œThen I have no alternative but to notify the police,” the woman declared coolly.
    â€œListen to me, please,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m calling you from my studio. Would I do that if I were a burglar?”
    â€œMa’am, if you do not know the security code then you must remain in the building until the police arrive,” Ms. Evergreen replied, sticking to her guns. “Remain in the build—”
    I slammed down the receiver. Remain in the building my ass. If Frank DeBenton found out I’d set off the new alarm he would evict me for sure. I dove out the window and thundered down the fire escape, snatched up the paint rod extension, and raced around the building to the parking lot. I skidded to a halt and tried to hide the six-foot pole behind my back.
    My landlord, Frank, was leaning against my truck.
    Rats.

Chapter 3
    Q: Where can I learn to become an art forger?
A: The best training for art forgery is an apprenticeship with a truly fine art restorer.
    â€”Georges LeFleur, at an impromptu meeting of La Societée des Beaux Arts, Paris
    Â 
    â€œMindy at Evergreen Alarm Systems sends her regards,” Frank DeBenton said as the blaring alarm came to a sudden and blessed end. Slipping a sleek silver cell phone into the pocket of his elegant suit vest, he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded his dark brown head. “Good evening, Annie. Is that a paintbrush rod extension or are you just glad to see me?”
    I tossed the rod into the bed of the truck, where it landed with a resounding clang. “What are you doing at the office so late on a Friday, Frank?”
    â€œI was having a drink with a client and came by to drop off some papers. I’d just pulled up when Mindy called to say some idiot had set off the alarm and phoned her. Said the woman didn’t sound like a burglar, so she decided to call me instead of the police.”
    â€œMore bungling than burgling, wouldn’t you say?” I asked, swatting flakes of white windowsill paint from the skirt of my little black dress, which had earlier tonight been respectable, even fashionable. I was a mess magnet.
    â€œThat was my guess, too. How’ve you been lately, Annie? I haven’t seen you around.”
    â€œI, uh . . . I’ve been keeping busy.”
    â€œBusiness is good?”
    â€œYeah, sure,” I lied. The self-employed learned to always insist that business was good, especially when it wasn’t. “Business is great.”
    A smile hovered on Frank’s lips. It made me nervous.
    â€œWhat?” I demanded.
    The smile broadened.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSounds like you’ve had quite an evening,” he said enigmatically.
    â€œYou don’t know the half of it,” I muttered.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I do. The client I was meeting tonight was Mayor Green. He told me about your discovery at Brazil’s new gallery. You’re the talk of the town.”
    I collapsed against the truck. “Just for the record, I had nothing to do with anything . I was a model citizen and answered all the cops’ questions, and you know how I feel about that.”
    â€œI didn’t imply that you were involved, Annie.”
    Silence filled the space between us. Suddenly tired, I gazed up at the night sky. The glow of millions of electric