Joanna sat down primly into the chair on the client side of my desk. She fixed me with her steely eyes and said, "That little bastard you saw is my great-grandson.  He and his crew of pre-teen punks broke into my apartment and stole my collection of.....of..."

I saw a bright scarlet blush creep up Joanna's stern face.

"Yes?" I said.

"I have--or had--an extensive collection of autographed photos of professional wrestlers. I've been collecting them for over forty years." She paused for a moment. I clenched my teeth to keep from laughing. "You see, I used to be a sort of wrestler groupie."

This was information I did not want to know. I coughed, then proved how tough I really was.

"How do you know it was the kids that stole your collection," I said with a straight face.

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