Ransom Note

Dear Stephanie,

I'll begin by telling you it wouldn't be wise to involve the police in this matter. They will tell you they don't negotiate with criminals, and I can tell you I don't negotiate with the fuzz.

This is between you and me... and your December issue of Now Playing featuring Irene Dunne on the cover. If you do not comply with my demands, you will never see that elegant photograph of Dunne, and you will not read the insightful and loving article about her life and work.

I've been watching you. That DVD copy of "My Favorite Wife" has yet to make the return trip from your bedroom to our collection of movies. Dunne's bemused reaction to her husband's bigamy still prompts you to laugh out loud.

You made me watch "Theodora Goes Wild," meaning that you and I are the only people under the age of 50 who even know what a "Theodora" does when it goes wild. You purchased "Penny Serenade," even though it wasn't nearly as amusing as "My Favorite Wife," and you grinned whenever Irene Dunne appeared on the screen.

That's love, baby. And I mean to exploit it.

If you ever want to see your magazine again--and know what classics are playing on TCM in December--you must do the following:

1. Leave $1,000,000 in unmarked bills on my bed.

2. Secure--for me--a dinner date with a celebrity of my choice. Make sure said celebrity brings an engagement ring and a sensible pre-nuptial agreement to this dinner date.

3. Check the mailbox when I'm away on the weekend. (The neglect of our mailbox for two whole days is what got you into this mess!)

If you meet these demands, I might return your magazine. I'd hurry if I were you. Irene Dunne looks so lovely, I could just... cry... right onto the cover of your Now Playing.

You have 24 hours.

Love,

Kidnapper