RichEisbrouch

Thanks. And, yeah, well, here come a whole lot more questions.

“I’m Mira Banerjee,” the woman introduced herself to Elena and Don. “What’s probably more important is I’m Jessica Timmons’ partner.” “Oh, thank god,” Don blurted out. Then he winced. “Sorry.” They all laughed, and then Mira Bannerjee went on. “I’m sure I have some information you need.” “Yes,” said Elena. “Though possibly not the most important – where she is.” She smiled again. “But let me show you something first.”

In the jumble of alternatives, the possibility of one of Jess Timmons' friends picking her up was considered. As Owen said, "Everything's still open."

“The first question,” Elena asked at lunch, “is how did she get to her car, six miles away?” “Or who brought it to her?” Don clarified. “You’re sure it’s not parked on a side street?” Ike wondered. “”Not absolutely,” Elena admitted. “We checked, but it could be tucked somewhere. Though there were other things we wanted to follow-up, and we needed our computers.” “And Rob,” Don added, “who manages to get places we can’t.” Rob gave t

This is heading more towards the "why-done-it" than the "who," but it's still a mystery.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Don asked, when Elena told him the next morning. “Her doctor checked her out?” “No.” “She checked herself out? Is that really possible?” “It helps to have a back-up – sometimes a lawyer if you’re going against a doctor. Though that’s not what she did.” “Her family?” Elena smiled. “You’re fishing.” “I’m lost,” Don admitted. “And so is she. She’s disappeared.” Don

Yep. Fortunately, at the moment, Kye can't move much in any way. The wages of flirting.

From the front desk receptionist, Elena was quickly pointed to Peter Velardi’s office, easily accessible to the residents and their guests. He stood when she tapped on his open door and immediately told her, “This is a mess.” They knew each other from town so didn’t need to be introduced. “Have you made any calls yet?” she asked. “Just to you. Then I was busy with the fire department. They needed IDs.” “I’m afraid I’ll need them again – and any

Uh, I'd be careful not to disagree with either of these friends.

As far as the sense of humor goes: It's definitely there, as it probably is in any tough job that creates its own world. But, related, the reason it needs to remain private is because outsiders, especially relatives of the residents involved, will only think the staff members are being rude and report them for it. And if the staff members don't get immediately fired, the relatives will have both the supervisors and the initial staff member fired. These facilities are owned by corporations that need to make money and not seem offensive. Still, separate from that, the facilities are most often very well run with very caring staff members and supervisors.

Before they got into the kitchen, Elena and Don glanced around what seemed to be a large general room. A wide, ten foot table near the entrance was covered with what looked like art projects, a much larger sitting area, diagonally opposite, had arm chairs arched around a TV, and a third area facing that was filled with a dozen small, square dining tables, each with two chairs. Off the TV area was the still unseen kitchen. The general room was well-lit, with ceiling-high undraped windows on three

Good point about "Recycle." Thanks. But I'm not that clever. So I was happy to find one ending that moderately satisfied most of the readers.

Thanks, both of you. Though I've discovered it's easier to start one of these stories than it is to finish one successfully. That's why I had to rewrite the end of "Recycle."

Glad you had your own variant of Phil's adventures. Sounds like fun. My mother had a similar adventure in 1954 and met a doctor from New York, where she was from. They didn't marry because there were family objections on both sides. Weird.

The Waldron Police -- Owen, Ike, Elena, Don, Jae, and Rob -- are back, this time following a knife fight that started in a nursing home.

The call came in too early in the morning for Elena to want a call to come in. She and Don had just settled at their desks and were sorting through overnight e-mail and phone messages, Ike was in talking with Owen, Rob was working the front desk, and Jae was out getting maintenance done on one of their squad cars. “Knife fight,” Rob called across the room as he ended the incoming call. “Where?” Don called back, though he wasn’t in direct line of sight with Rob. “The hig

Sure thing. As I said, it's just a piece of lightweight Christmas silliness. If you add the six nativities, four holiday villages, and the eight days of Hanukkah, they outnumber the partridges.

Nah, I obviously like Conor -- and, of course, Jake. And sometimes you simply have to understand the silliness of that business -- and the artificial pressures and the money -- to understand the people.

Thanks for the suggestion. I will. I'm always interested to see how other writers handle larger numbers of characters, since I can barely track my own in books like Bodark Creek. That's why I sometimes prefer shorter, tighter stories. Still, the Moorpark Palms series of stories was easier because I lived with the originals of those often composited people.

A short, early Christmas piece of silliness. In continuing to sort through my husband Tom’s personal and family stuff, we found six nativities. These are like The Twilight Zone episode that kept repeating with tiny changes, only funnier. 1. Six 3" frosted glass figures – Baby Jesus in his manger; Mary kneeling on both knees, hands crossed on her chest; short- bearded Joseph standing; and longer-bearded three kings, two standing, one on one knee. No stable. Tom has no idea where

Even more than wishing, the police force repeatedly asked and patiently waited for years to replace its 150 year-old station.

Sure thing. It was actually written as the introduction to a short book that I thought would be "Fix It," "Recycle," and "The Kid on the Bike." But then I thought up "Solitary." Now I just have to edit that. Again, thanks for following along.

To be sure that work continued well, they each stopped by the old station to make regular checks, when they weren’t simply volunteering themselves. “Looks like the hulk of the Titanic,” Rob joked at one point. “And it seems like we’ll never get back here,” Jae agreed. She was sitting at the edge of a mess. “Still, it feels good just coming in.” ‘What’re the most important things left?” Owen asked. Again, Elena checked their list

Glad you enjoyed the book. And, yep, Scoot's his own man.

It's a combination of both. After I did my research and started writing, Obey was created. After a couple of friends read it, I softened it a bit in the same way I softened Harry in GWM after friends read it and said he was sometimes a jerk for failing to appreciate what he was offered. But when I reread the softened Obey, I realized how far I'd strayed from my research and intentions, so I wrote the harder-edged, I hoped closer to the truth Variation. Though when friends read that, again, I had to go back and soften it a bit. I don't want to put off all my readers if I can keep most of them by just lightening up. As for @live: there was a guy under there I knew. Way under. I could never decide if he was purposely playing stupid to jerk me around, or if he really was that dense, dumb, and naive. He could have been a studio head who liked or needed at some points in his life to give up control and constant decision making, or he could have been a trash collector whose biggest decision was which lever to press. But he was great naked, worked out, and good looking, and at the time, that's all that mattered. As usual, thanks for asking.