As Sven picked the lock on Tick’s door, he heard Kurt say something about that already being suspicious.
“Nobody locks their doors here,” he said.
Tick’s apartment was above the newspaper office. It was small and smelled like cat litter. Sven had Kurt put on gloves.
“What a mess,” Sven said, looking at strewn clothes and old copies of the newspaper. “Even if we don’t find the painting, I imagine we’ll turn up the Loch Ness Monster and the Lindbergh baby.”
Kurt seemed engrossed in what he saw on Tick’s computer screen. “He left his account to TravelTalk.com logged in. He’s writing a negative review of my museum.”
Sven peered over Kurt’s shoulder. “The Egbert Art Museum is as atrocious as previous reviews have stated,” Sven read. “If it were a horse, it would have been shot and put out
