“This was the Palette of Leonardo da Vinci, found in 1942,” she said. The viewers left and she was alone. “Hello sir,” she said to me.

“Hi. Could you please tell me how to get to the front. . .”  At that moment, I noticed a small name plate on her jacket. It read: Tricia Downing.

“Excuse me sir?”

“Tricia!  Is that really you?”

“Adam?  Oh, now I remember. We went to the same church when we were little. How are you?”  Some museum spectators came by. “I get off in fifteen minutes, can you come back then?”

“Sure, if I can find out where here is.”  At that moment a guy in a mask came up behind Tricia and put his arm around her neck, pulling her head back.

“Nobody move, or she gets it!”  He shouted, reaching into the glass case and taking the palette.

“But that’s priceless,” she said.

“Shut up, and nobody gets hurt.”  He inched his way out of the building, let go of Tricia, and dashed for an awaiting car. I grabbed Tricia’s hand, got her into my car, and tailed them. Tricia was rubbing her neck.

“Boy, he certainly meant business!”  She said.

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“No.”  I turned a corner and got as close as I could to the car.

“There, 588-HQZ, write that down.”  She found a piece of paper and wrote it down. We continued to follow him, but lost him in traffic.

“We’ll never find him now.”

“Oh, yes we will. With that license plate number, we can track the owner and find the palette. By the way, where do you live?”

“On Walnut Street, Gamma Complex.”

“I think I know where that is.”  I drove up to our apartment complex. I got out and opened the door for her. I escorted her to her apartment. “So this is where you live, I live two stories up, room 513.”

“We’ll have to get together sometime.”

“How about tonight, at my place?  Say around 8:30?”

“Okay. Until then…”  She said, as she shut the door. I went back outside and returned to the scene of the crime. The policemen swarmed all over the area. The place was roped off and police were questioning witnesses outside the door.

“Hey Sergeant!”  I said.

“What, kid?”

“I have here the license plate number of the get-a-way car.”

“That’s the break we’ve been waiting for, let’s go down to the station.”  I followed him down to the station. Once inside he asked, “So kid, what do ya know?”

“The man was about five ten, brown eyes, wearing a mask. He took off in a black Horizon with the license plate 588-HQZ. There was also an accomplice driving, although I can’t tell what he/she looked like.”