Johannes Vermeer The Guitar Player painting

Johannes Vermeer The Guitar Player painting
Claude Monet Regatta At Argenteuil painting
Claude Monet Woman with a Parasol painting
the trembling edge of divulging all, Fric remembered that his mother had once been in a booby hatch. She had stayed there only ten days, and she hadn’t been chop-’em-up-with-an-ax crazy or anything as bad as that.Nevertheless, if Fric started babbling about recent freaky events, Mr. Truman would surely recall that Freddie Nielander had spent called the wrong line.”Mr. Truman stared at him as though trying to decide whether he could be as stupid as he was pretending to be.Not as great an actor as his father, Fric knew he couldn’t long stand up to interrogation by an ex-cop. He was so nervous that in a minute he’d need to take a leak in one of the Rubbermaid jars.“Ummm, well, gotta go, things to do, things up in my room, you know,” he muttered, once more sounding like a cousin from the feeble-minded branch of the Hobbit clan.He swung the cart around Mr. Truman and pushed it east along the main hall. He didn’t look some time in a clinic for the temporarily wacko. He would think, Like mother, like son.For sure, he would immediately contact the biggest movie star in [345] the world on location in Florida. Then Ghost Dad would send in a powerful SWAT team of psychiatrists.“Fric,” Mr. Truman pressed, “what did you mean—ghost?”Shoveling manure over the seed of truth that he’d spoken, hoping to grow a half-convincing lie from it, Fric said, “Well, you know, my dad keeps a special phone for messages from ghosts. I just meant like maybe one of them