Take one juicy slice of the art gallery scene. Pour in a world-class bottle of Pinot. Add an exotic dark-haired seductress. Season with soupçon of treachery and murder. Stir well. Whoever said a watched plot never boils. It's a tasty dish that's got Professor Jonathan Benjamin Franklin in hot water again. Whether it's art, women or the occasional stray body, as usual, he's flummoxed. But don't tell him. It was the dog who did it.
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David L. Gersh, the celebrated author (he celebrates quite ofen) is a recovering corporate lawyer whose long and checkered career started with his first deal, when he was sent to the great metropolis of New York for two days at the behest of his boss, Micky Rudin, to participate on behalf of Frank Sinatra in the sale of a bedraggled Hollywood movie studio to a small funeral home company (now known as Time-Warner), and returned two and a half months later, sidetracking a promising future as an impoverished poet. He attended Harvard Law School quite by accident. He is now a retired partner of one of the gerat international law firms, Paul Hastings, which he still loves dearly, from afar. He lives in Santa Barbara, California.
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