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Mr. Petigrew had recently developed an odd habit of leaving the office to pace the sidewalk up and down West Avenue. He checks his reflection in the windows of shops and then darts quickly by others. Maybe he has more time now that he's not trying to find that Veronica girl a job. Wonderful really, because I think the exercise might do him a bit of good. And Veronica just seems to love her new job with Mr. Heung. But the pacing has become a bit much. If he just walked leisurely I don't think he'd call quite as much attention to himself. He has also been seen to spray some sort of aerosol on his scalp quite frequently. Sue-Nancy Quigly, Mr. Petigrew's secretary, told me that he, that is Mr. Petigrew, that he has also taken to asking her if she has noticed he had a bit more hair on his dome. She had not, and quite frankly neither did I. He remained as shiny on the top as the day I first met him. And a good thing, too, for he was also growing accustomed to saying how much he'd like to pull his own hair out. Very odd, indeed, to hope so much to grow some just so one could pull it all out again. Men can truly be difficult to understand, at times, as Isabel says "they are victims of their own desires". Now I'm not entirely certain how this pertains to Mr. Petigrew's lack of scalp follicles, but I do know that he has also become quite uncomfortable with the visits from Captain Leighton as well as Eliahas Wayne's insurance man, Mr. Kuflic. Something to do with the in's and outs of his advertising and all to do with catching The Burglar.

You see, it all has to do with my column and the letter I received from The Burglar. I was once again credited with an idea that Mr. Petigrew called a "doosy" that he just "couldn't believe". He really is quite a down to earth type fellow, always wondering what he has done to deserve all of this. And he is such a devoted newspaper man, I believe it absolutely is about time he get all of this recognition. Now when I first met Mr. Petigrew, he was dedicated to the entire Burglar issue, and now with a bit of help from me he is smack dab in the middle of it. Or, as The Daily said in a headline, "In With The Burglar". (Most unflattering picture of Mr. Petigrew that The Daily chose to run). But the point here is that I decided to ask Mr. Burglar, up front and all that, not to rummage through my home and snatch poor Lolly's tailgate hat until after the Races. And though a few of the Ladies at my Women's club called my letter 'silly', 'daft' and a few other things, apparently I'm not the only one. That is, not the only one that took to making my requests to Mr. Burglar in print. You see, I believe The Burglar to be a gentleman, and a gentleman never denies a polite request. It's become quite obvious that the man does like hats, and why wouldn't he want a hat like Lolly Desjardin's?

But the point here is that, apparently, after reading my latest column, several others decided to take out space in The Weekly with similar requests. Babson Hurley was the first. Her advertisement read: Dear Mr. Burglar, You've already been to 105 Wooded Lane. While we appreciate your courtesy and thoughtfulness in cleaning up any mess you may have caused, we do request that you not visit again unless formally invited.

Betsy Perkins ran an even nicer advertisement, saying: Dear Burglar, If you are the person responsible for bringing my cat to me, thank you ever so much. He is the best cat in the whole entire world. My husband may not think this cat is worth the golf clubs of his that you took, but I do. And, my husband did get his clubs back. We don't have much else for you, other than some coins that my husband collects which you missed. They are in the second floor study.

Victor McWoogle took out a very funny spot, saying : Alright now Burglar Man, haven't had the pleasure yet, despite all the good stuff in our house. Still, our neighbors at 114 Overlook have absolutely fabulous stuff and they are heavy sleepers.

At last count, according to Sue-Nancy Quigley, Mr. Petigrew's secretary, The Weekly had received ten advertisements and placed all of them in the front section of the paper. Now, according to Sue-Nancy, who to me seems to be a rather in-the-know type, newspapers are very keen on their advertisements. All has to do with profits, and what not. So you see, this trend I started was obviously pleasing Mr. Petigrew to the point where he believed he could actually wish for more hair. Really, any hair would be more hair for the dear man.

And the truly odd thing about this whole letter writing bit is that the police, as well as that nasty little insurance man, Mr. Kuflic, had completely forgotten about The Second Hand and were concentrating themselves on this belief that Mr. Petigrew had an "in" with The Burglar. It must be nice to realize one's dreams, as Mr. Petigrew was now doing. Although, I thought that Veronica girl was a bit cross when she said gagging is what he, Mr. Petigrew that is, that gagging is what he gets. You see, as we were buying up some more suspicious items at The Second Hand, I told her about how the police were ordering Mr. Petigrew to gag. Very archaic, I believe, and I told the man from The Daily just that when he came round to speak with me about it. I said to him, 'one does not order one to gag, and the police should stop concentrating so much on who writes who a letter and should really concentrate more on finding out who lifted the hood ornaments off of half a dozen Mercedes parked along Louella Court last week.'

But the point here really is the letter that I received from The Burglar that started all of this excitement.

Dear Veronica,
I wouldn't think of burgling your home. You've been quite kind and fair to me, I believe. I think that you're advice is very good advice and more people should read your column. They should also stop by and visit your garden, it's one of the nicest in the neighborhood. And while there, maybe think about adopting one of the stray cats you've been so good about caring for.
Best Regards,
T.B.

A STORIED PAST

Iggy Braithwait should have been enjoying some much needed time in the deserved lime light, but she wasn't having any of it. Quite the contrary, she spent a good deal of effort denying any part of it. Well, Isabel was quite right, I think, saying that Iggy's problem was in getting beyond the discovery that she'd been shopping at The Second Hand store. Really no way around it, of course. After all, it's not as if Babson Hurley's necklace was in the front window. It was clearly resting smack in the center of the inside display case, and Iggy most certainly had inserted her entire self into the store to be able to spot it. The necklace, that is. Naturally, a nice piece like that would be in a special setting. Poor Mr. Heung, nice sweet man that he is. He was quite besides himself knowing that one of the lifted items ended up in hs store. He asked me to come with him in taking the necklace over to the Hurley's house. And I would have gone, too, but the Police were absolutely unreasonable insisting that it, the necklace that is, was evidence and needed to stay with them. Babson made a very nice point to send Mr. Heung a thank you note and from what I could gather they made plans for coffee next week. Of course, I learned this from Mr. Heung and I'm not entirely certain if that is their plan. Could be they're on for a game of paddle tennis. Doesn't speak English, Mr. Heung. But he is so good at acting things out.

But back to Iggy. I had all good intent to chat with her about the goings on at The Second Hand, but she never did show up for our Women's Club meeting yesterday. Isabel says that she, Iggy that is, is laying short. Or down. Something to do with her keeping out of our eyesight. Now I do think she should just show off her finds at The Second Hand, put a quick stop to some of the snickering going on with some of the women. After all, The Second Hand is a marvelous place to find gems and treasures.

In fact, it was just yesterday, at our meeting, that I was quite proud to stand and show off the Royal Albert tea cups I'd found there last summer and I said so, too. That is, I said that I found the tea cups at The Second Hand and now I'm donating them as part of our tea cup drive. Well, that's when I had my idea. Just as I was about to take some applause I had my idea, gave a nod to Isabel and skooted out the door and on over to Iggy's.

Well, we were a bit out of breath, the two of us, me mostly for having to chase Iggy round to her back yard before she gave up and agreed to speak to me. Iggy was breathless because she admitted she'd been dodging quite a few of the women. Silly really. She's always been a stunner, Iggy has, what with those green eyes and porceline skin. But, poor thing says she's taken to The Second Hand since putting on a few pounds these past few years. Says she finds the things in Mr. Heung's little store are a bit roomier. And she is quite correct. Mr. Heung's English is not all that and he tends to put "size 8" on most all of the Ladies merchandise. I found that interesting myself when several items were just swimming on me and I'm absolutely certain I've not been dieting. Now we do get on well together, Mr. Heung and I. Naturally he confided in me that "8" is the only English number he knows how to write. Or possibly what he meant to convey was that size doesn't matter. He is a very insightful man, you know.

But the point here is that I had a plan, a good one, too, on how to salvage poor Iggy's fragile reputation with the other ladies. After all, I found such a smart set of tea cups at The Second Hand, it seems quite reasonable that Iggy would also find a nice set of tea cups. And that is what is important at the moment. Tea cups. We are, after all, right in the middle of our spring Tea Cup drive at the club. It's no small wonder that Iggy has become an absolute fan of my advice column, now that she is convinced that I am brilliant. Of course, we still had to visit The Second Hand to actually find some more tea cups. And that is how we realized that Iggy may just have started a trend amongst our women's club. We were on our way to The Second Hand when we saw Constance Cortnoy leaving the store.

"I bet she's stocking up on silver wear for her tailgate party," Iggy breathed in shock, realizing that Constance's tailgate party may be second hand, too. As for me, I'm not concerned where someone acquires their finer goods. I was finally going to get a nice set of food and water bowls for Betsy Perkins and her Mr. Marmalade.

But I didn't dilly dally long, not when Iggy reminded me that I had more advice to give.

Dear Veronica,
I have a friend who will do almost anything to get attention. It drives me nuts. Just because the burglar broke into my house and took a set of Vera Wang china from my house, she had to go and have the burglar brake into her house, too. Only, there's not much to take of any value, she has no nice jewelry and her china is all chipped. So she went and got herself even more attention then me because the burglar actually left her a nice diamond tennis bracelet that he'd lifted from another house.
No China

Dear China,
He really is a nice man, that burglar. I think he may have given my friend a cat.
Veronica