Kelly said, looking sad. She'd always seemed so bright before; this was the first time I'd seen her this way. I assured her that it was all right, no ...arm done."Donna, let's go out to lunch and I'll tell you a story," she said. We gathered up our purses and left, it was only 11:00 in the morning.When we were settled in a private booth, side by side in the dark back of a neighborhood bar/restaurant, Mrs. Kelly began her story. "I'm a 'trophy wife, ' Donna. I married Marty when I was 24 years old. Colin left me a message to check yesterday’s edition of the London Times. There, on the front page, was the Queen, holding the portrait I’d done of her and her dog from thirty years ago. The story was ten columns long, singing my praises. It was almost embarrassing. It got worse when the Queen said she’d allow both paintings to be shown in the National Gallery for a limited time. Then they would disappear from the public eye, back into her private collection.There was another photo, of Katie. Oh shit she knows I been pretending to be her. She caught me. But why isshe not yelling? "The game?" was all I could say trying to play dumb."Yes, the Phillies game, silly boy. You said last week that your friendsand you were going to the game. Have plans changed?" she asked."Oh, um, no. Plans didn't change," I said in relief."Well, I know that game is late, so I made arrangements for Neil tosleep over Ronnie's house so you can go to the game and not worry abouthim."She didn't know about her. She spun in circles going up and down my shaft like a tight glove of the finest silk.My understanding was that the Governor was relieved of his duties as caretaker of the station and sent back to Spain with a cloud hanging over his head for the missing piles of gold that had never made it back to the King's treasury. Everyone knew he was the biggest thief on the island and the expectation was that he would not be coming back any time soon. His wife was evicted from the Governor's palace and.