The Matter of the Vanishing Greyhound
Golden Gate Disappearing Greyhound Bus Caper
Master of the Impossible Crime
Hopkins was piling rather than packing a quartet of red leather suitcases, the smallest one just large enough to accommodate a grand piano. He had stowed his suits and shoes in one, all of them, and was stuffing the others full of a wide variety of household objects. Just as he was deciding what else to include, his bedroom telephone rang. He ignored the initial rings as he set his bags against the wainscot of his living room where they stood like a lobster quadrille.
“Douglas? This is Robert Harrah. We’ve got a problem.”