Saturday Night Silliness -- Random Musings of a Writer Lady and Her Cat.

Lately, I have been pondering many things. These are one of those days that I find myself asking why must I go down this road? Why must I write about this particular subject? The only answer that I have to is because I can my dear hearts, because I can. Today I’m walking that strange path called contemplating meeting new people. They say that when you are alone you should enjoy it and get to know yourself. Find out who you are, where you’re headed and what you want. My husband died nearly ten years ago, guess what? I’ve had a whole butt load of ‘me’ time. I have gotten to know myself pretty well. When we’re young and we picture the person that we are going end up with we picture the absolute best that we can imagine. Let’s face it, just a few years earlier we were picturing our weddings and our first cars. They were Porsches and Lamborghinis. Did anyone not picture a sportscar waiting for them when they emerged victorious from the DMV with driver’s license in hand? That’

Pen led the way out of the house and into the surrounding woods. She did not say a word until clean up was successfully completed and Scotch was speeding the car into London. “Someone else killed that man.” “They did.” Scotch agreed. “Don’t you think that we should have stayed? Tried to figure out who it was?” “And risk being discovered?” Scotch looked at Pen and grinned. “It’s all about the adventure Pen. The target had been neutralized. The adventure was over for the evening.” “No one was expected back until tomorrow afternoon. That would have been plenty of time to investigate. Stop calling me that.” “Stop calling you what?” Scotch asked. “Pen.” “It’s your identifier.” “What do you mean identifier?” “Your code name? You don’t think that my real name is Scotch, do you?” Pen didn’t respond. “You did?” He asked. “Who would lie about having the name ‘Scotch’?” Scotch grinned, “You do have a point. ‘Scotch’ is my identifier. Your identifier is ‘Pen.’”

With a nap and a good breakfast, Detective Farina is looking better. The search plans are mapped out, dishes are done. We leave Ian, Uncle Will, and Stump to set up and oversee the helpers. Farina and I head back down the old tractor trail to take another look at what’s left of Earl’s pick-up. “I was able to take a better look at the sample that we took yesterday and found rust. I think that Will and Ian are right. The floorboards of vehicles rust out. They don’t burn. The hole in the passenger side floorboard had to have already been there. If the floorboards were rusting out then odds are good that the vehicle was in poor shape to begin with.” “So in other words, the rust had done most of the damage the fire just finished it off.” I say. “Yes.” We reach our destination and stop there. “I’m out in the middle of the country and my truck is on fire. Where would I go?” Detective Farina asks. “More importantly, why would my truck be on fire?” “There are

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be wrong?” Pen asked. Seeing an opportunity to annoy her, Scotch countered. “What if I’m right?” “You’re not.” “There’s a chance that I am.” Their eyes locked. Neither one backing down. One corner of Scotch’s mouth turned up, sparking a response from Pen. Color rose to her cheeks and her hazel eyes brightened. “The organization is supposed to be a place that gathers intelligence. I was told that...” Pen hesitated and took a more direct route. “I don’t know who you people think you are or what kind of game you’re playing but I stated up front what I would and wouldn’t do. Killing is not on my resume. Violence is supposed to be used only when all other potential solutions have been exhausted.” Scotch looked at the fire. “First, don’t quote Corporate directives to me. I know them.” He said turning to Pen. “All of them. Second, what gets put into the mission statement and what actually takes place can be two completely different ani