Alison Nanny X Has a Man Overboard Be careful what you wish for. That’s what my parents always say. I’d wished and wished that we could be on a new assignment with Nanny X. And now here we were in a canoe on the Potomac, way earlier than I ever wake up on Saturday morning, staring into a tangle of pink worms. At least we had a case. But why did it take NAP so long to give it to us? Maybe they had decided, like the CIA, that Nanny X was getting too old for the special-agent business. Maybe they’d decided Nanny X wasn’t good enough. Or what if the problem wasn’t Nanny X? What if it was us? I didn’t want to believe it, but the possibility stuck to me, like dog hair on a sweater. The only way to unstick it was to solve the case. Fast. “Don’t you think The Angler will be watching the White House?” I said. “To see if the president installs the statue?” “Possibly,” she said. “But let’s look at what we know. The Angler is an artist whose work features a fish. Artists like to be near the things that inspire them.
