John Michael Strubhart

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“In any case, we’ve still got my ten thousand. That should furnish an apartment, all right.” “And my money,” she added quietly. “Your what?” “The money I brought with me,” she said. “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten completely about it.” He smiled indulgently. “What is it, darling, something like five hundred dollars?” Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “You know very well it’s closer to five thousand dollars,” she said.
The Con Man (87th Precinct #4)
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