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

When we finally arrive at the diner, the place is packed. We find Uncle Will and Ian at a small table to the right of the door. The pair have a clear view of the door and seem to be watching it closely. I can’t help but wonder what they’re up to. We grab a couple of chairs that have just been vacated and prepare to squeeze in when Uncle Will shoos us away. “We are a couple of single gents out on the town. We don’t need our style getting cramped by old fogies like you two. Go over there.” He says and waves us towards the other side of the diner. The two furthest booths are empty. We take the one that is not in the corner, neither one of us is too keen on eating in the dark. Pulling a menu from between the salt and pepper shakers, we begin looking for dinner. I look up from my menu to study Uncle Will and Ian. “Those two are acting weird.” “They just have a little cabin fever.” Detective Farina says without looking up from his menu. “Who knows. Maybe they

Focus, precision, and patience. Why else would that phrase be familiar? I open my eyes, the room is dark. I can hear Detective Farina sleeping. He snores lightly. He’s having a good sleep tonight. There’s another sound. I put my hand to my mouth and stifle a laugh. He does fart in his sleep. Caught you. I think I’ll save that little bit of information for another time. I get out of bed as quietly as possible, procure the stack of paperwork that the detective brought back with him and hope that a copy of Congressional Assassin or ‘whatever the hell they’re calling him's' psychological profile is hidden within the stack of files. I tiptoe out of the bedroom with my treasure, grinning from ear to ear. The first thing that I do is go into the kitchen and make some coffee. Because up at two a.m. without coffee? What kind of a woman do you take me for? Besides, it’s always a good time for coffee. I have been drinking coffee and finding everything except the ps

The detective and I each accept a pair of gloves from someone from the Medical Examiner’s office before squatting on either side of the body. Detective Farina pulls back the tarp and points to the hole in Earl’s back. I look at it and nod. He turns the body over enough for me to take a good look at the gunshot wound on the front.   “What do you see?” He asks.   “A hole.”   “Where is it?”   “His stomach.”   The detective lays Earl back the way we found him. “One hole in the stomach. One in the back. It’s likely there were two separate shooters.”   I think for a moment.  “No.”  “Why not?”  “The wounds are the same size. We only found one gun. Earl’s.” Something also felt familiar.  What...I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s too soon to share the information with Detective Farina.  “The wounds are in two very different places.” Farina counters. “The wound in the front indicates a shot that was made quickly. A crime of passion. The killer didn’t even take time to aim. The shot to the

“What happened while I was gone?” I ask. “The doctor stopped by and everything looks good.” Ian says. “Looks good.” Farina repeats. “His kidneys are working like they are supposed to.” The detective finds his bed sheet fascinating. “Went for a walk. Took a whiz.” “His behind was uncovered. Several nurses have stopped by to say, ‘Hell-o.’” Ian says with a grin. “My patootie is a cutie.” Farina says with a smile. I smile back. He looks at me and says. “You’re so pretty.” He looks at Ian and says, “She’s my wife.” I look at Ian. “He’s like a broken record.” “You picked him, Lassie.” “That’s right. You picked me. Where’s Lassie?” I send Ian out of the room to eat something and spend the entire time he’s gone trying to convince Detective Farina that Lassie didn’t come to see him. Which leads to a long discussion about Lassie and why Timmy’s parents let him play around so many dangerous things like wells. Fun times. I’m tempted to call for

Following him inside, I find that the house is nearly as crowded as the front yard. I head up to the master bedroom first to put Earl’s shirt away. I stop in the doorway and watch as a small group of women stand in front of the closet and search through Earl’s clothes. I have an urge to scream at the ridiculousness of this reaction to Earl’s death. You’d think Elvis had died the way they’re acting. I clear my throat. Everyone looks at me. One lady says hello. “Hello.” I respond. The lady nods and everyone goes back to doing her own thing. “Excuse me. Beth Peters is my cousin. So if y’all would do me a favor...get out of her stuff.” The lady who greeted me politely picks up her choices and says, “Sweetie, I am so sorry for your cousin’s loss and of course you and the rest of your family. As you can see we aren’t going through your cousin’s things. Just her husband’s.” She turns around and goes back to what she’s doing. “Okay...apparently I didn’t say this c