What's The Worst That Could Happen?

“At the moment,” Dortmunder said. “Maybe I’ll go and just watch.”

Kelp said, “Is that the ring?”

“Yeah. We were just looking at it.”

“I never saw it,” Kelp said, and picked it up, turning it in the ray of sunlight. “Doesn’t look like such a big deal, does it? How come you don’t wear it?”

“Well, here’s what I think,” Dortmunder said. “I think it used up all the good luck it ever had keeping Uncle Gideon solvent. I think the only luck it has left is the other kind.”

“Oh.” Kelp put it down, and went over to sit in the chair by the TV, saying, “So what are you go

“If I find somebody I really don’t like,” Dortmunder said. “Otherwise, it can just stay in the drawer there.” And he put it back in the drawer, away from the sunlight.

May said, “John, it’s all right with me if you want to go to—” and the phone rang.

“Second,” Dortmunder said, reaching for the phone, wondering if this was A.K.A. again, having failed to find another Fred Mullins, but Kelp said, “John, no, that’s me.”

Dortmunder looked at him. Kelp pulled a small telephone out of his pocket, a thing that folded together to become hardly anything at all. Opening this machine, putting it to his face, he said, “Hello?” Then he smiled all over. “Hi, A