The Hundred Dollar Suicide

The Hundred Dollar SuicideLast Week I Received a telephone call from my artist friend, Peter Gallant. "Victor," he implored, "you must come to my studio at once. I need you. And bring a lot of money."When I climbed the four flights of dark, creaking stairs and entered Peter's studio, I found my friend pacing the floor, and greatly agitated. His studio also was in an unusual state. Instead of being cluttered with paintings thrown about in all sorts of disorder, the studio was...