The dirty thought cleared from my mind.
It was apparent this woman didn't know her husband owned "her" beloved r.aiders.
"Ms. Davis, before we go into any more details, I need to tell you something."
I told it to her. Straight. It was tough, but it was necessary. She sat down silent.
I looked at her with loving eyes. The poor doll. I excused myself so she could be alone for a while.
When I came back in, the window was open, the shade flapping in the breeze. I ran to it. There she was, fallen from a one story building, and dead...as dead as the 2004 chargers.
After my initial shock, I smiled. "Oak or maple?" I amusingly asked myself. It was so obviously balsa.
As I listened to the radio that night, I heard the strangest thing. The "dead" girl...Ms. Davis...had fled from the police station and was gone.
Last edited by Jenson71; 07-17-2004 at 06:20 PM..