Things not to say in the presence of a detective

I suppose detectives by the very nature of their profession have to quickly correlate and analyze everything they see and hear. Years of training and self-discipline have taught them that things are not always what they appear to be. That's all well and good when solving a case, but it can be quite disconcerting to an innocent person who doesn't happen to have the best motor skills when it comes to controlling her mind and mouth.

My husband, Bruce, and I recently visited the office of a local attorney who specializes in estate planning. This attorney also just just happens to share office space with a private detective.


Their offices are in an old building that was formerly a gold essay office in our downtown area. When walked into the empty reception area it was like being transported back in time 100 years. The wooden floor planks creaked beneath our feet as we ventured deeper into the somewhat disheveled but completely vacant area.

Looking behind a barred counter that looked like an old bank tellers window we expected to find a receptionist/secretary. Instead we saw a massive oak roll top desk that was cluttered with file folders and long ago abandoned coffee mugs. It looked as though someone had been there as recently as 10 or so years ago, but there were no signs of recent activity.

Behind the desk stood a mammoth sized coal-black antique safe that looked like a prop out of an old western movie. It was at least 7 feet tall and 6 feet wide. Fading gold filigree lettering adorned it's double doors.

Bruce was more interested in our meeting with the attorney so while I checked out the safe, he wandered a bit down the empty corridor that was lined on both sides with a multitude of opened office doors, and called out "Hello?"

In the dead stillness that followed I said "Wow, it would take several sticks of dynamite to blow that safe! Maybe even C-4 ." (Please believe me when I say my only experience with cracking safes is what I've learned from watching t.v.)

As my words echoed down the hallway we heard a quick movement that sounded like someone abruptly siding back a chair on the wooden floor. The sound was followed by short quick steps and suddenly a small heavy set man charged up the dimly lit hallway.

Bruce extended his hand to the man and said "Hi, we are the McDonald's are you Mr. Talbert?" In response the middle-aged baling man ignored Bruce's, outstretched hand and pointed his pen toward me and gruffly said "What's your full name and who's she?"


As Bruce told him the man made hasty notes on a yellow legal sized pad. "unhuh, is that your truck out front?" He asked. When Bruce acknowledged that it was the man pushed his glasses up with one finger, moved to the window and apparently jotted down the make and license number.

"Umm," Bruce said hesitantly "We are here to see Mr. Talbert, is that you?" The man spun around looked at me and said "So what's your interest in our safe?" Before I could answer we heard the flush of a toilet from somewhere in the depths of the old building and a second man hurried down the hall toward us. Ironically the second man looked enough like the first to be his older brother.

As he approached he outstretched his hand and said "Hi you must be the McDonald's, I'm Jimmy Talbert, that paranoid man by the window is my partner Mike Ferrell , my office is down this way."

As Bruce and I followed him down the hallway, I noticed that the paranoid Mr. Ferrell was quick on our heels.

Once we were seated in Mr. Talbert's office, and because I'm apparently a bit dim witted I said "That is a very interesting safe in the reception area, I'll be it has an colorful history." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Ferrell's head give a quick jerk in my direction as he snapped to attention "I asked a minute ago what your interest was in it." he said taking in every aspect of my features.

Before I could answer Mr Talbert waved him off with the back of his hand and said "I've got this Mike, Please excuse us."

When he'd left the room Mr. Talbert explained that Mike Ferrell was a close friend and private detective sharing his office. He also informed us that the safe in the reception area was apparently of great interest to many unsavory locals who had recently attempted to crack it.

He went on to explain that in the past 7 months the office had been broken into 7 times. "Someone actually took a torch to it." he said "they scorched the floor pretty badly, it's a wonder they didn't burn the whole building down..funny thing is that there hasn't been anything in the safe in over 3 years and the real kicker is that it hasn't been locked in all that time."

He continued "Another person or, maybe the same persons drilled the tumblers out. I guess no one has actually broken in and just pulled on the handle because as I said it hasn't been locked in ages. "

Last Tuesday we came in and found the office door jimmied and the safe door standing wide open. So you can see how everyone that comes into the office falls under Mikes suspicion" He picked up his pen and continued " I'm sorry for Mikes interrogation, now what can I do for you."

We discussed our business for about an hour and when we had finished we requested copies of some of the legal papers. When Mr. Talbert took the file across the hall we saw an elephant sized antiquated copy machine just inside the doorway. As he attempted to make copies the old machine squeaked, groaned and made numerous other indescribable sounds. It jammed, whined, sputtered, coughed and shook with such violence the floor vibrated.

In a flash Mr. Ferrell was on the scene trying to assist. Meanwhile as Bruce and I waited we began to discuss the last time we visited a probate attorneys office a few years earlier. It had been to settle the estate of a recently deceased relative. The relative had been involved in a particularity difficult marriage to an incredibly controlling and manipulative wife. As Bruce and I talked I said that I thought it was the marriage that killed him and not the illness. I said something like "If I ever see her again I'd like to walk up to her and say : Well YOU are the one who killed him.!"

Now you know it's a funny thing about machines, they always do the wrong thing at the wrong time. I'd raised my voice so Bruce could hear me over the din of the copy machine, but just as the machine shut off the last part of my sentence "Well YOU are the one who killed him." echoed though the silent building.

Trust me when I say that got Mr. Ferrell's attention. I think we explained it all sufficiency, but I'm still a bit suspicious the A-1 Pool Cleaning Service truck that has been parked out in front of the house for the past 2 days. We don't have a pool, and neither to any of our neighbors.

The Discounted Camel

Someone once said that the art of communication is the ability of a person to transmit a message so that the person receiving it could replicate it in his or her mind. It was also said that it is the responsibility of the receiver to be sure that the message is received correctly by the use of creative and artful questions. That's a pretty good definition.

Webster defines communication as: "sending, giving, or exchanging information and ideas, which are often expressed non-verbally and verbally.

Here's the thing; Do we really need to define communication? We all do it every day. Someone talks and another person listens. Simple.

Maybe not. We are all guilty of either not giving our full attention to the person speaking or of not speaking clearly enough to get our message across. This is especially true when it comes to communication between husbands and wives.

Let me give you an example.

Not to long ago I received a phone call from my husband, Bruce, while he was at work. What I thought he said was "Hey we just got in a damaged camel do we want it?"

Bruce works a a major hardware store and they carry a wide assortment of things besides hardware including household items, yard and garden art and so forth. So when he called about a month ago and said they had received a damaged camel in that days shipment, the image of a cute little ceramic camel came to mind.

I thought it might look great on our coffee table so I said "Sure, how much is it?"

I heard him shift the phone to his other ear and shuffle some papers before he said "With my employee discount it comes to four-fifty."

"Sure" I said "That sounds good, go for it. How big is it?"

"It's a 10 footer" he replied

My mind flipped from a little $4.50 ceramic camel to the image of a $450.00 ten foot camel. Now that might seem like a strange place for my mind to go, but we had recently both admired a life sized horse sculpted out of scrap metal at one of our local feed stores. A 10 foot camel didn't seem overly outrageous as the image drifted though my mind.

"Wow" I said "Ten feet? is it metal?"

There was a pause while my words flashed some sort of image in his mind and he said "Of course it's metal what did you think it was made of plastic?"

Before I could respond he added " The thing is, where would we put it?"

I immediately thought of our neighbors reaction upon waking up one morning and seeing a 10 foot metal camel in our front yard so I said "Well how about out back in the vegetable garden?"

There was a brief pause while he must have been trying to imagine it in our garden, then he said "In the Vegetable garden? Wouldn't it be better to put it out back in the chicken pen?"

Now that made no sense to me. We can't even see the chicken pen from any spot in our yard, what was the point of putting a 10 foot metal camel out in the chicken yard where we couldn't enjoy seeing it?

Instead of addressing the issue of location I said "Well in reality I guess we shouldn't spend $450.00 on yard art anyway, we need other things more. Let's think about it and talk it over tonight."

"Yard Art?" he said a bit harshly "Why would you consider it yard art? I think they are kind of obtrusive so putting it in the chicken yard makes total sense to me!"


At this point I wondered why on earth he would want to bring home a very expensive 10 foot metal camel that was ugly and obtrusive, so I asked "Obtrusive? How damaged is it?"

"Not bad" he said "There is a tweak on one side is all, I might be able to pound it out."

"Well, ok" I said "let's talk it over tonight when you get home."


"Ok" he sighed, "but if we don't want it Jimmy wants to take it home for his dog."

I tried to imagine Bruce's co-workers Labrador puppy playing with a 10 foot metal camel. "What would Jimmy's dog do with it? " I asked "Spending $450.00 on a fake companion for his dog is a bit eccentric don't you think?"

Bruce let out an audible sigh and said "What are you talking about? What fake companion?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked "I'm getting confused! You just said Jimmy wanted to take home the 10' metal camel for his dog"

There was a very long long pause in which Bruce said nothing, so I finally said "Well? isn't that what you just said?"

"Wait" Bruce said "Repeat what you just said"

"What do you mean repeat what I just said...I said I don't understand why Jimmy would want to take a 10 foot metal camel home to keep his dog company. It doesn't make any sense."

"A 10 foot what?" Bruce asked

"A 10 foot camel" I answered " isn't that what we've been talking about?"

I could hear a hint of a laughter in his voice when he said "Ok, I'm going to say a sentence and you fill in the blank word ok?"

Sighing I said "Whatever Bruce, I'm getting very confused."

"Ok here goes are you ready?

"YES I'm ready" I answered

"Ok we received a 10 foot damaged ? _________" I waited to see if that was the blank pause I was supposed to fill in. When he didn't continue I said "Camel."

Bruce laughed and said "Would you spell that for me please?"

"Bruce this is getting crazy and we are both busy" I said

"Come on, just humor me, spell that last word" he said

Sighing I irritatedly spelled C A M E L

Bruce broke into a laugh

"OK" he said " I we have a communications problem here, I'm talking about a 10 foot by 10 foot by 6 foot high damaged DOG KENNEL That's spelled K E N N E L, aren't we looking for one to house the peacocks in?"

So there you have it! A lesson in the art of communication, and that's spelled : c o m m u n i c a t i o n.

Anna Graham

One of my daughters Mia Grain gained unwanted fame in one of my earlier posts "Primer on Toilet Training Tots." To keep things fair she feels I should write something about her sister, whom I shall call Anna Graham (anagram) because she seldom means what she says or says what she means.

A side note for those of you who are a bit fuzzy about what an anagram is, let me explain that it is a word or phrase that can be arranged to reveal a hidden message. For example the word anagram can be rearranged into nag a ram.

Now, don't misunderstand Anna Graham is incredibly intelligent, it's just that words sometimes tend to tumble out of her mouth in random order. When this happens if you listen closely you can generally grasp the hidden message. Sometimes it's a bit like going on a verbal treasure hunt.

This story dates back to when the girls were both tweeny-boppers, that amazing age between adolescence and teens. At that time I was working at a Chiropractors office as a physio-therapist.

It wasn't easy juggling between the girls and my job, but it pretty much worked out. I timed my day so that I generally arrived home about the same time the girls did. On occasion however, if traffic was gnarled or I had a difficult patient I ran a few minutes late.

On the rare occasions when I was running late I didn't worry too much. The girls were very responsible and adhered to a strict set of rules such as:

1: Do not answer to door to anyone that is not a close personal friend of mine no matter what they say or do.

2: Limit phone conversations to 3 minutes or less in case I'm trying to call.

3: Check in with our neighbor Mrs. Worth and let her know I'm running late and you will be in the house alone for a very short time.

4: (And this is really the only relevant one here) In case of fire, do not hesitate, run out of the house, do not stop for anything, not even the pets and get to Mrs. Worth's house then call 911.

There were a few other rules, but they are tedious and number 4 is really the only one you need to be made aware of at this time...you may want to back up for a minute and re-read it.

Now let me tell you about the fateful evening in mid December that aged me about a hundred years.

I was running about 20 minutes behind schedule that evening. As I rushed about the office picking up odds and ends and wiggling into my coat the phone rang. I was tempted to neglect it, but because of the lateness of the hour I thought it might be the girls calling to check on me even though I had called them a bit earlier to let them know I was running late.

I hastily snatched up the phone but even before it came in contact with my ear I heard Anna Grahams shrill voice reverberate in my ear "MOM MOM THE HOUSE..IT JUST BLEW UP!"

Trust me when I say those are not words anyone, especially a mother of two home alone preteen daughters, wants to hear.

My heart raced and my throat immediately went dry but I managed to find enough courage to croak out "Are you both ok? Where are you?"

Anna Grahams voice sounded small against the cacophony of wailing sirens in the background "We are ok mom, we are at Mrs. Worth's house.. but MOM.. the house..It just BLEW UP!"

Relieved that my children were alright, but sickened that I had just lost our home I reached for the back of a chair to steady myself before I said "Put Mrs. Worth on the phone."

There was a moment of silence then Anna Graham tearfully told me that our little silver miniature Schnauzer "Dolly" didn't make it out of the house.

Dolly was an intricate part of our family in fact I called her my DOGter, and the news hit me hard, but I managed to say "oh.. ahhh..." before I ran out of words.

Anna Graham, now crying harder said "MOM...maybe I should go back and try and get her."

"NO NO!" I shouted "Absolutely not! Do Not go back to the house. I'll be home in just a while, it will be ok."

I heard more sirens blaring in the background and Anna Graham said "Mom the police just got here, should I have them get Dolly for us?"

"NO" I shouted "Absolutely not you both stay put!" I calmed myself a bit and added "Put Mrs. Worth on the phone."

After a minutes hesitation while she cleared her sobs, Anna Graham informed me that Mrs. Worth was out back talking to the firemen.

"OK , ok " I said.."Promise me you will stay put do NOT go outside, do NOT try to get back in the house... I'll be right there!

With that I hung up the phone, raced to my car and peeled out of the parking lot. I broke every speed limit and violated every driving law on the book..I know this because about 2/3rds of the way home I picked up a Highway Patrol car hot on my tail with his lights flashing and his siren wailing . I glanced in my rear view mirror, but decided I just couldn't take the time to stop. I kept imagining Anna Graham trying to rescue Dolly. I sped on...Nothing was going to keep me from my burning home and frightened children...nothing.

Very shortly a second and then a third Highway Patrol joined the high speed parade. I broke into a sweat and fought back nausea. It was all too much for my delicate nervous system. My sense of justice tole me I should stop but my sense of motherhood made me drive faster and faster. Surely once we arrived at my destroyed house the police would understand.

Cresting a small hill about 5 blocks from my house I saw billows of black smoke pushing against the darkening sky. Every nerve in my body was so on edge that my teeth were chattering. Tears flooded my eyes and washed down my cheeks soaking the front of my coat. This was the absolute worst tragedy of my life.

Finally I flew around the corner on my block with my tires squealing and caught the first gimps of my home... To my uncomprehending eyes there it stood...completely in tact just as I had left it that morning.

I slid sideways into my driveway and slammed the car into park. It took me a minute to comprehend it was NOT my house that was on fire, it was the house directly BEHIND mine. As the police piled out of their vehicles Anna Grahams voice rewound and played again and again in my ear "MOM MOM THE HOUSE..IT JUST BLEW UP!"

THE house, she hadn't said OUR house. Everything began to spin violently around me. I remember reaching for the car door handle and then everything went black.

I awoke with my daughters and Mrs. Worth peering wide eyed at me through the double doors at the back of an ambulance. My next awareness was of the ambulance attendant asking me if I knew my name , what day it was and what the name of the president was.. I had no idea.

They treated me for shock. I think I still suffer from Post Traumatic Syndrome. Raising two daughters that I feel free to call Mia Grain and Anna Graham has taken a serious toll on me.

Ok..so the bottom line is I went to court to fight the more than eight hundred dollars worth of traffic tickets. When I explained my long winding tale to the judge everyone in the court room had a good laugh.

Apparently the judge had no sense of humor and obviously didn't have pre-teen children, because he said "Having Anna Graham for a daughter and speeding home to a house that did NOT blow up is not a legitimate excuse for endangering your life and the lives of others, it's bad judgment on your behalf. The fines stand, you may pay the bailiff on your way out."

I remember thinking that he should live with Anna Graham for a few years and see how it affected HIS judgment!

A Baaaad Mooove

The pasture area on our little ranch is divided into 4 sections. There are 2 sections to the left of our driveway and 2 sections on the right. In order to keep the pasture from getting overly grazed we occasionally rotate our livestock from one section to another.

To do this we place two heavy green livestock panels at about midpoint on the driveway and chain them together. This blocks the lower portion of the driveway and keeps the stock from running out onto the road. There is a metal gate at the top of the driveway closest to the house that we close. With both ends blocked, it creates a sort of alleyway for the stock to use during their transition from one side to the other.

Once the driveway is blocked at both ends we simply open the gate on one of the pasture sections and then open another gate on the opposite side. Since our livestock adhere to the old adage "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence," things generally go very smoothly.

Unfortunately here is what happened last night.

We have five new lambs on pasture with our young bull. Since the lambs are new to the ranch we knew they wouldn't know how to rotate pastures smoothly, but we hoped that they would follow the bull, who is a veteran at playing the game of pasture rotation.

That was not entirely a wrong assumption. The problem was that one of us (and I'm not owning up to anything here) neglected to shut the upper gate. I spotted the error about the same time the bull did. Why he chose to run up the driveway instead of crossing the alleyway to the new pasture is a mystery to me...but that is what he did.

Before I had a chance to react he ran as fast as he could up the driveway toward the house. He was bellowing and kicking his heels in the air and I knew the game was afoot. Now he is not an overly aggressive bull, but when dealing with large animals with horns and hormones it always a good idea to heed to caution.

Bruce and I had been tucked safely behind the panels at the lower end of the driveway but I managed to squeeze around them. I was thinking I could get to the gate and swing it shut before the bull got to it. Now I know from past experience that I can't outrun that bull, so what made me think I could was pure insanity. By the time I was neck and neck with the bull I realized that I had made yet another dumb move. Fortunately he was more intent on getting through the forbidden gate than he was on slamming me to the ground so he just gave a few shakes of his head in my direction and kept running.

He of course made it to the gate ahead of me, but I kept going thinking I could at least close it before the five lambs reached it . That too was a thought gone totally astray. My good intentions were unfortunately about five lambs too slow. Suddenly a billowing cloud of baaahing dust past me and charged though the gate.

In less than a blink of an eye we had a bull and five lambs running ramped across our manicured lawn and munching on my prize roses, day lilies, sweet Williams and a vast buffet of other floral delicacies.

By the time I reached the gate my husband, Bruce was by my side. As I stood with my hands on my hips he calmly walked up and said "now what?" Now he knows all my plans have a way of sliding sideways, and yet he always turns to me to come up with a solid plan.

When I turned around the 6 renegades mowing machines were scattering in all directions. On the bright side the upper area around the house is contained behind 6' wire fencing so we knew they couldn't go anyplace else. On the not so bright side there is a gravel driveway that completely encompasses our house like a race track. One lap around it equals 1/8th of a mile.

As we tried to herd the sheep and bull back toward the alleyway, they discovered the unique round-about driveway that could be considered the poor mans Churchill Downs Race Track. So you do the math. If one lap around equals 1/8th of a mile, then 6 laps must equal close to 100 miles..well, ok but that could be a slight exaggeration, but that is what it felt like.

One of us would get them running around the house on the track while the other stood near the gate to try and divert them back into the alleyway. The running around the house part worked well, it was the turning them down the drive into the alleyway that became problematic.

Every time we would get them near the gate they would either run right past it and the person waving their arms, or turn completely around and run another lap in the opposite direction. Finally we got so hot and tired we gave up , sat down on the cool lawn and watched as the ran laps around and around on their own.

Finally in frustration we called our dog, IsHe out. Now, he is a Schnauzer not a herding dog, but since he does round up stray chickens for us, we thought it would be worth a shot. It wasn't.

The first lap around the house with IsHe doing his best did go fairly well. We almost got the stock to turn at the gate and go into the alleyway, but just as they reached the gate, IsHe turned them around and they were off in the opposite direction on yet another lap around the house.

In a last ditch effort, Bruce and I stood side by side in the driveway by the gate waving our arms in an effort to divert them and run them back into the alleyway. We will never know if that would have worked because as the 7 of them with IsHe in the lead approached us at a full out dead run, we quickly lost our nerve and stepped out of the way allowing them to thunder by.

We gave up again and sat back down on the lawn trying to come up with another plan. Bruce kept saying "They have to be getting tired..they will stop soon." They didn't.

We finally decided that if we called IsHe off, and blocked their racetrack and the lawn with both vehicles, the stock trailer and the utility trailer they would have to turn down the drive.

Tired and overly heated, we drug ourselves off the lawn and trudged to the house to get the keys to the vehicle. Once inside we looked at each other and then out the window as the animals raced past. It was like sitting in box seats at Hialeah Race Track...all that was missing was the announcer and a tall drink with an umbrella in it. On that lap he bull was back in the lead with the five sheep close on his heels. IsHe was trotting slowly behind them with his tongue hanging out.

We stayed in the house just long enough to get a drink of water then we headed back out to move the vehicles in place. It was then that we realized the competitors had not come by in several minutes. Bruce looked at me and said "Oh oh, where did they go?"

We cautiously walked around to the front of the house. When we looked down the alleyway we saw the bull, 6 sheep and IsHe laying together panting under a large Cedar tree in the pasture we had been trying to get them into for the past 2 hours.

Bruce looked at me and laughing said "Now THAT'S funny they did it all by themselves!" I didn't laugh.