By this point, Roseanne had figured it out. She was smack dab in the middle of a scam.
The wiry middle-aged guy sneered, "You hear that, girlie? You’ve made a big mess today. You ain’t walking away without coughing up some cash."
Roseanne smirked, "You’re saying that tin box is a family heirloom? Do I look gullible to you?"
The tall skinny man chuckled along, "Well, not the tin box itself, but what’s inside it. Since you’re so skeptical, let’s show you what we're dealing with."
The burly man popped open the tin box, revealing a pile of broken shards.
"See this? This vase has been in our family for generations, passed down for over a century!"
"This is genuine, priceless porcelain! Ever heard of that famous song about it? It’s auction-worthy, even today!"
An old man, now steadied by his son, lit up a pipe. "Listen, miss, I know you didn’t mean it, but this is a treasure to our family. We treat it like royalty and hardly dare to touch it."
Roseanne calmly countered, "If it’s such a treasure, why was it out on the road in the middle of the night, stored in a tin box?"
The old man explained, "We’re moving houses today, had to shift everything out. The porcelain is delicate, so we put it in a tin box for safety. We were waiting for a truck by the roadside, and then you suddenly swerved, and the box flew into the street. Lucky we jumped aside, or you’d be facing more than just a broken vase—you’d have three lives on your conscience!"
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