When he wakes up tomorrow he is going to be so sorry.

So very sorry.

20

J ack Reilly and Keith Waters were standing in the front room of Zora’s Menagerie, the brand new SoHo gallery that had been burglarized. Zora’s was scheduled to have its opening reception the following Saturday, but the first show was up and had already created a buzz. Specializing in delicate quirky glass sculptures made by award-winning artists from all over the world, the magnificent glass slipper on display in the front window had caught the eye and imagination of many passersby. Now, like Cinderella, the slipper had disappeared into the night, along with more than twenty other glass sculptures. The remains of two of the works of art now covered the floor, smashed to smithereens. Only a handful of sculptures were left untouched.

One of the owners of the gallery, Leon Peters, a man in his sixties with wet, white hair and flushed cheeks was having a meltdown. He couldn’t stop waving his arms as he ranted about the break-in and the gorgeous exhibit that had been destroyed. Having run straight from the pool in his apartment building several blocks away with his wife, Zora, he was wearing a Hawaiian bathing suit, matching shirt, and sandals.

“Our treasures!” he cried. “Zora and I opened this gallery to realize our dream. We both love the play The Glass Menagerie—we saw it on our first date thirty-five years ago. We both love glass sculptures. After I retired, it finally dawned on us that we should share our love of glass with others. We felt it was our destiny to bring people together in a gallery that was spiritual and aesthetic. People who are sensitive to glass! We worked years to make this happen!”

“I’m so sorry,” Jack said.

“Did you know that the Bible stated that glass was more precious than gold?” Leon asked, still motioning wildly.

“No,” Jack answered sympathetically. But I guess the thieves must know, he thought.

“I feel as if a piece of my soul is gone. Zora’s too! Some thug is probably damaging those sculptures as we speak. Some no good thug who never heard of bubble wrap! Those pieces have to be treated delicately. Every single one of them is worth tens of thousands of dollars. We traveled the world over to collect them. Each piece had its own wonderful story!”

“I assure you, we’ll do everything we can to apprehend whoever did this, Mr. Peters,” Jack said, trying to calm the distraught man.

“Why couldn’t the thieves have stuck to sneaker stores? I hear that’s where the big break-ins were during the last blackout.” Peters turned at the sound of his wife’s voice. She’d been in the back office. “Zora, darling, come here. Be careful of the broken glass.”

Zora, a plain, petite woman with a dark tan, was about the same age as her husband. It was obvious that she too had hurried out of a swimming pool. Her wet black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and bobby-pinned to the back of her head, and she was wearing a muumuu in the same tropical print as her husband’s trunks. “If I got my hands on whoever did this, I’d wring their necks,” she pronounced. “The world is full of selfish people. Selfish people who don’t know right from wrong.”