Brownstonelit's Blog

11/7/10
So who was in charge of the railway back then? Who was the one who coordinated with law enforcement to get millions of gallons of hooch to travel across the South, traveling northwest out of Valdosta?

And what of the lockbox? Lockbox #________ that holds the precious papers? I will continue to search for that, but there is so much more to search for before I get there. Like the black ace of spades and the seven of spades which still hold significance… or, the name of the hotel/motel where Jessica lived and her last name so she can be identified. Previously I had received information that brought me closer to where she is buried. At first the #7 made no sense at all, but now…I believe I have narrowed it down to a small concentrated area. Still needing confirmation however; I decided to reach out to Charley. Remember I promised that I had a very important meeting last Friday. In that meeting I received further information that confirms my suspicions about her location and also her last name. Confirmation coming from Charley who through R, directed me to seek a slip of paper still inside his wallet. Having reviewed documents, credit cards and various other wallet paraphernalia… I could not think of anything I had seen in it before that would provide such an epiphany- but Charley has never proposed without delivering. I could not locate the wallet at the time, but promised R that I would look as soon as I could reach it. An hour after our conversation, I went to my office and finding Charley’s wallet began my search. The leather was old and crusted and so with absolute attention to its fragile condition I took extra care in opening. R had told me, Charley was instructing to go to the last piece of paper in his wallet. I should disregard anything that was plastic or laminated. I educated her that Charley’s wallet had two sides and a bill area once fully extended. She told me to trust my own instincts- that Charley would guide me and that I would recognize what he wanted to show me as soon as I saw it.

It is because I trust him so implicitly that I can trust his trust in me. The leather creaked as I opened it. Once splayed, I chose to let Charley guide me. I slid the contents from the left side out onto the plastic bag I keep his wallet in. Carefully I began to deal from the bottom of the deck, so to speak. The first was a plastic card from Shell that had the calendar on it. Recalling R’s instructions that neither plastic nor laminate would contain what it is I needed… I pulled the next thing from the bottom. As crazy as it seems… I had no idea what it was that was to be answered by this action. I had given so many questions to Charley that I had no idea what clue I was even working on at that point- but it didn’t matter. R had said that I would know “it” when I saw “it”. The red cardboard had been handled so many times; it felt like flannel under touch. Faded and folded I read carefully what was printed on one side. It was a State Farm Insurance card. You know the kind you fold and keep in your wallet? I looked at the card disappointed. What was Charley trying to tell me?

He had clearly instructed it would be the last thing in his wallet- infact he had been precise, stating it would be the last paper document in his wallet. No t knowing what to do, I rolled the folded card over and over in my hand contemplating my next move. Maybe it was in the other pocket? Maybe I had chosen wrong? Maybe my connection to Charley was not as strong as what I had felt it to be… In the moment I resolved that the error must have been mine, and that I had somehow not understood…I set the red card down on top of the Shell card and contemplated  pulling out one more thing just to be sure. As I laid the card down, I realized I had flipped it wrong side up. Wanting to keep everything in its exact order, I began to turn it over. Just as I did, I saw what was printed on the tiny lines before me- my heart leapt within my chest.

There it was… black ink on red cardstock:
State Farm Insurance Agent:_____________________________.

The last name of this agent confirmed the last name of the first victim: Jessica S____________.

And that’s not all Charley told me…

11/6/10

Today was the first frost and in the air was a poignant sense of purpose and the understanding that with all endings come new beginnings. This week I truly began to understand the moment of Charley’s betrayal- when someone you think you know turns out to be different than who you thought they were. But on the flipside, I also received confirmation that someone else was just as they have always been and always will be… there, quiet and supportive in the background. Always watching out for me and picking up the pieces when they begin to fall and so in a way I should be grateful for the betrayal delivered.

This has been a challenging week, full of unexpected events and revelations. You cannot possibly begin to know how personal this journey has been for me- how connected to Charley I have become and how much he has taught me. By the time the book is ready for publication, I expect Charley will be well on his way to discovering the rest of heaven and as long as he tosses a smile back to me every now and then… I think I will be ok. Is it odd to say that in the last year, my best friend was a man that died 44 years ago? Maybe… but then you may never come to know everything that Charley and I have been through together this past year. I will tell you this; things are winding down and there is closure in the future. Yesterday I received so much information from Charley that I am still trying to process how to navigate it all. Caution is the word for the day… caution and gratitude. It is mind boggling some days to think of the manner in which all has transpired. R has been the conduit and I the receptor and unless you are intimate with this type of experience, you cannot begin to grasp the impact it has upon your soul.

So let’s talk trash for a moment, shall we???

Let’s talk about the small white kitten. What kitten is that, you say? Oh…That would be the small white kitten that Charley was going to surprise his family with that week. The tiny ball of fluff that never made it home to Julie’s arms, because someone else’s need to know where the other tapes were hidden was more important. You know… the men who decided it was necessary to take Charley out. The men who were so deviant in their sexual prowess… the men so smitten with G that their brains fell several feet to rest inside their pants that they couldn’t think straight. The men who could not afford for the rest of the world to know about what they had done to Jessica and Roxanne. The men who set others up to take the fall each time Charley got close.

So let’s talk about the men who stood beside the train and watched as it was loaded with moonshine…The law men who collected the money for protecting box car after box car of white lightening that rode the rails at night. Ahhhhh…. to be a hobo in Valdosta in 1966! Murder, mayhem, money and sex-all for the simple admission price of a badge! What kind of a badge, you might ask? Who cared? Every one of them had their dirty little fingers in the pie-stars and shields all mixed up together… or all in a row, lined up with their hands out, waiting for the payoff. Grim, the card player with the pocket protector and G’s boy-toy. All patiently waiting for their cut of the profits at the edge of the tracks and where was the train headed- this train of illegal booze? Why northwest my dear… northwest! Shall we look at the railroad lines out of Valdosta in 1966 and follow the route? Of course…we could do that, or we could just look up and find where they arrested the engineer that year. Golly… the things you can find in a newspaper is just amazing!

But even more amazing, the things they never even knew to print. Things like… blood on the hands of someone meant to protect… someone who was there that night-twice. Blood on the hands of someone who had to take a bath to clean himself up, before he could return to the scene that night to act as a pillar of justice. And the other one- Grim, who had blood on his sleeve from wiping Charley’s face. Who drew Charley’s car off the road… who smiled like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas when I told him I knew things he didn’t know, I knew. And he replied, he knew things I would never know.

Silly, Grim…
He didn’t know about R.
He didn’t know about the file… or the lockbox filled with rolled documents…the insurance card… or the other tapes… or that Roxanne and Jessica would not remain silent in their makeshift graves. But I guess that’s the thing about ego. You can never see beyond yourself. Never think that someone else is smarter… or more tenacious. Or in the words of a very favorite author of mine…never distracted.

“Life is a bitch; waiting at a picture window of a house for her cheating husband to come home. Karma is the name we give his mistress…Revenge the illegitimate child!”

Oh the things we do for lust…we might never do for love!

11/4/10
Today is a quiet day meant to contemplate the act of betrayal…
It comes in many forms.
The betrayal between firends…
The betrayal between spouses…
The betrayal of ourselves…

We are at the end of a nine year cycle. If you do not like how yours looks; take a look at the last eight years and know that sometimes when we reap what we sew… the harvest may not be all that pleasing, but there’s always the opportunity to replant the field and move on.

11/3/10

She worked at the American Legions Club. A young girl, very pretty- medium brown hair, cute build. That’s where they met her- this Jessica that no one wants to remember. She was beaten. Left in the elements… ogled by one of the four in flannel who had a sick obsession with watching the flies cling to the battered flesh of her face. Holiday over… they buried her at or under the pool.

There was a dairy. A nice dairy… lots of sweet old cows that spent their days wandering the fields, eating grass, chewing their cud… and swatting flies in the unbearable heat with their leathery tails. Maybe even Jessica’s flies.

There was the pool. There was the dairy. Both the dairy and the pool were absorbed into the country club complex years ago…

How paradoxical that the hooker that no one wanted to help or search for when she went missing 44 years ago…
the young girl who was possibly raped- but most definitely beaten…
the girl, who even now in the afterlife is consumed with the ravaged and torn flesh of her face …
the girl who was most likely the first in this series of law enforcement victims that led to Charley’s murder…
the girl who wasn’t worth anyone’s time of day when she was alive…
the low class tramp who people turned up their noses at…

Is now dead… living the afterlife in Valdosta Country Club style!

Funny isn’t it? What began as a Jimmy Hoffa style burial, ultimately landed her in the last place she would have ever been welcomed back in 1966! The irony is absolutely sublime and of course as a theatre director I can only celebrate her presumed resurrection in the best way I know how… a song from a hit musical- Sweet Charity!

What are the words to that wonderful song? Oh yeah… I remember now!

“…Charity:
Tonight at eight you shoulda seen
A chauffeur pull up in a rented limousine!
My neighbors burned! They like to die!
When I tell them who is gettin’ in and goin’ out is I!
If they could see me now,
That little gang of mine,
I’m eating fancy chow
And drinking fancy wine.
I’d like those stumble bums to see for a fact
The kind of top drawer, first rate chums I attract.
All I can say is “Wow-ee!
Looka where I am.
Tonight I landed, pow!
Right in a pot of jam.
What a set up! Holy cow!
They’d never believe it,
If my friends could see me now!
If they could see me now,
My little dusty group,
Traipsin’ ’round this million dollar chicken coop.
I’d hear those thrift shop cats say:
“Brother, get her!
Draped on a bed spread made from three kinds of fur.”
All I can say is, “Wow!
Wait till the riff an’ raff
See just exactly how
He sign this autograph.”
What a build up! Holy cow!
They’d never believe it,
If my friends could see me now!
If they could see me now
Alone with Mister V.,
Who’s waiting on me like he was a maître d’
I’d hear my buddies saying:
“Crazy, what gives?
Tonight she’s living like
The other half lives!”
To think the highest brow,
Which I must say is he,
Should pick the lowest brow,
Which there’s no doubt is me!
What a step up! Holy cow!
They’d never believe it,
If my friends could see me now!
What a step up! Holy cow!
They’d never believe it…
They’d never believe it,
If my friends could see me now
Hi, girls it’s me, Charity…”*

Or, did they mean… Jessica? I know it doesn’t really rhyme, but it does have a certain kind of ring to it, don’t you think Grim?? They even mention those sweet old cows from the dairy- you know- see the line…“Holy cow!”???

So this is what they mean by, “Life imitating art… or was it art imitating life?” Hmmmmmmm…

Don’t you just love musical theatre, Grim? I do. And look! Sweet Charity came out in 1966! Wow…I couldn’t have planned that one better if I had tried!

*Sweet Charity (1966)

Sweet Charity – Broadway Revival Cast 2005
Book by Neil Simon
Based on the film Nights Of Cabiria
Lyrics by Dorothy Fields
Music by Cy Coleman)

11/2/10

Before the magic and the mystery of the day is stripped away by the dawn…. before the possibility of forever becomes, only for now… before the souls who speak so richly in my dreams are crowded out by the clamor of daily ritual and the interruption of those more corporeal… let me sit- idle in thought, patient in my demeanor and silent amongst my own chaos.

Whatever ills are met this day must be conquered early as I have a great many chores and obligations to attend to. But for the moment, while I am still Capt. of my ship and keeper of the night, let me tell you that the journey of life is so amazing that I wonder why we forget to stare at the stars at night and wonder on which beam of light our hopes arise. Why we do not see the mystery in small works, joy in the little minutes and smile from within- that we are here-that we have been given this great gift of experience.

I know what you probably wanted was guts and gore from me today. Some monumental clue that has led me to somewhere even more insane than the last clue’s navigation… and trust me—the day is still yet unborn and the possibilities for such are endless with this crew. But for now… just for now… while the damp embroiders the air and the wind cuts just a bit deeper in your cheek- while gray and gaunt clouds veil the breach between daring and dawn… and the early morning mist breaks down the colors of the day as water colored remembrances …Breathe in the night air and find your balance. Such is upon us that has never been and you must be prepared for what gifts or goads will befall you…

I have a very important meeting on Friday which will bring to some closure, to others more angst and to all…another clue to follow. Until then:

“… it is hot- very hot; July or August-she was killed. Possibly left outside in the hot elements- feels like a public pool-maybe worked there- lifeguard or something. Last name Sanders Or Sanderson something…
Creepy- he has left her out in the elements for a few days- then buried her. I feel like a male energy can see her body through the window. He just leaves her there for awhile. He has a wife- 2 kids; b/g. The boy is older- has a leg problem-he wears a boot or brace on one of his legs-can’t run fast as a kid and this frustrates the father…”

“…half of her face is really messed up. Could be decay or the injury suffered in life. She is extremely fixated on her face. The male in the window is turned on by watching her body. The 4 in flannel- who had a boy and a girl? Boy has brown hair/slender build. Hotel/motel is mentioned for Jessica- the hotel/motel name began with Red-something…
November 11th is significant for you…”

“…the man with the 3-legged white dog and a bad eye- he has information for you…”

See? The day has yet to break and already, I have delivered you somewhere new
Until later then…

11/1/10

Last week I had a dream. After learning that the rumor of the dead girl being buried under or at a pool was infact- not rumor at all… I did some additional research that left me still very much out in the cold as far as identifying an exact location. Tired, but encouraged I asked Charley for more help. That night, with visions of Jessica obsessing about the damage to her face, I asked for guidance and a chance to follow the four in flannel as they committed the crime. I know that my rest was unsettled- but no more than that. Alas, the only thing I can recall from my slumber is standing inside a small room that had not been finished. Sheetrock mud and taping still exposed, floors covered in sawdust, tidbits of lumber, nails and huge clumps and drizzled tailings of caulk- the window openings had been cut, trimmed and framed- but actual windows not installed. It was a shell of a room, inside what appeared to be apartments or offices of some sort. The place I was inside felt like a two-three story building still under construction– a building that looked out over an area with scattered construction debris and large piles of sandy colored dirt heaped at various junctures. Standing inside the room, you could feel the breeze through the window. I sensed someone near me, but was not frightened as if they did not know I was there- I leaned out the open window and looked down. Some construction equipment and stray lumber, wheel barrows and shovels littered the ground directly below, but beyond the area seemed to clean up a bit- as though further along in the construction process.

The person with me bent forward into the window to look farther out and when I followed their gaze- I saw the gaping hole. It was rectangular in shape and while the earth surrounding it held a honey brown, deep within its cavity the shade became more reddish in pigment.

At the time I did not know if it was meant to be the footprint of another building- but after comparison to others, soon realized that it could not have been a basement as it was more than one story deep.

When I questioned my company as to what it was- there was no answer. I glanced back towards the door and saw the shadow of my escort pacing in the hall- he had left me there alone to contemplate the view.

I turned back towards the window and stared at the shape below; its dimensions and the proximity to a clump of woods. This was new- fresh construction in an area that was sparsely populated. The template of buildings was laid out and the one I was in was the closest to completion. I looked down again, gauging and deciphering the shape of the cavity beneath me. Uncommonly large for private use, it became instantly clear that this was for public use. When I suddenly realized what it was I was looking at… I awoke in a sweat.

I was given a name as guide wire. When I Googled this name; the internet gave me more than14 different possibilities of location and name combinations to review. Searching Google Earth and Google Maps, I discerned by population density and locale several plausible sites. But when I sent the list to R for perusal… the very address I had made the personal exemption, for a variety of reasons… it was the only address that jumped out at her from the list. Keeping an open mind and because she has thus far, never been wrong in this case, I Googled it. The satellite zeroed in and the images of tall 2-3 story buildings began to come into view. The closer the satellite got and the higher the resolution…the more clearly the images of a complex came into view. But it wasn’t the template of the complex that caught my attention so much, though the address gave me the exact same perspective as the one in my dream- it was what lay just north of my perspective that gave me chills.

It was the image of a large pool.

Keep talking Jessica… I am listening!

10/31/10

Tomorrow is the feast of All Souls Day and so tonight is All Hallows Eve, where millions of people will celebrate the thinning of the veil between the living and the dead. This is the one night of the year that celebrates those who have passed on and so Valdosta will be a very busy place tonight. Hallow’s Eve is the night we welcome back into our lives the souls of our ancestors and wear costumes and masks in an attempt to ward off the evil spirits that may try to accompany the good as they enter our homes…

Tonight I expect to learn more from those who have passed on- both from the good and the evil souls that escorted Charley to his grave and drug Roxy and Jessica kicking and screaming to theirs. I imagine each will have a tremendous amount to say, so I will listen carefully to the whispering winds as they whistles their way amongst blackened limbs festooned with Spanish moss … heed the warnings of the crows that have now followed me for days, as they watch from afar and look for inspiration from the moon in all her glory as she peers between wispy clouds of celestial gauze to watch me on my hallowed haunts.

There is an air about this day I have not felt before…a sinister undercurrent as the veil continues to thin… thread by thread as the layers between Grim and I continue to lean, until we are face to face. Me with the absolute blackness of his soul and he with his demons, his tormentors and his fears.

‘…the scarecrow goes up near the location this time of year. Where the pool used to be could now be on someone’s farm- their property… the name H______________ may appear on the mailbox…’

Happy Halloween Valdosta…
I’ll be waiting to hear from you, Charley…If you do not recognize me behind my mask…I’ll be the one divining the position of Jessica’s bones as they lay buried in fallow fields.

Anyone got a compass and a shovel?
A… bloody shovel?

10/30/10

You know when I receive some of my information, sometimes I get things like numbers; which may become parts of addresses. Or sometimes R get parts of a name- or a glimpse of someone’s job or career path and she passes that on to me.

Take for instance Rox. Now several clues came through about her. Long blonde hair, injured hand or arm- necklace with a V- small white dog- two roses. She had a thing for baking- but the best clue of all turned out to be a complete address of 1223 Bakers Way- it led me to the American Baking Institution in Manhattan, Kansas. Now, Rox of course didn’t come from Kansas, but she did work in a bakery and this clue was meant to confirm that! But what bakery? There were so many little mom and pop bakeries back then, how was I to know? Ahhh, the good old days! Folks love remembering them- that’s how I learned the next clue. Someone pointed out to me that the larger grocery stores back then had bakeries too and BINGO! I found her at the Harvey’s store bakery in______________. Neat, huh?

The other nice thing about the good old days is that some folks try to remember why they wanted to forget the good old days to begin with! And that’s when they really start to talk. Seems the closer they get to death- the less they keep their mouths shut. Anyway, I digress.

Another favorite thing of mine is antiques. I like collecting all kinds of old things. Obviously, I like to collect old typewriters- why? Because I am an author. But I like to collect other things too- like old fashioned kitchen utensils and kitchen equipment. I love old painting, old toys… I love old books. Why my most favorite these days is a 1966 Valdosta phone book! Why? Because it has everybody listed and important information. Things like…what folks names are… where they worked… where they lived. You just don’t get that kind of information anymore with the privacy this and the privacy that.

Don’t you just love the good ole days?
I do!

Now… let’s see where old so and so lived in 1966. And let’s see where the pools used to be. And while we’re at it…let’s look up who the woman named _________________ was married to. That oughta help with figuring out why the chandelier got broken and maybe even whose hand was shaking in the hall just inches from the gold boxes that lined the hall the day they went to break into Charley’s P.O. Box. Why golly… I bet before the day is through, I’ll know a lot more than I do now and that’s a whole lot! Don’t believe me?
Ask Charley!

10/29/10

For some odd reason, I began my day rummaging through Hazel’s materials and curiously was very drawn to the funeral registry. I have not perused this document in many, many months. Now in the light of hindsight… names jump out at me and I am amazed at what I did not see before that now glares at me from the yellowed pages. Names that before were like so much scribble scrabble on a bathroom wall, now speak to me of mock compassion and blatant defiance. People, whose secrets were shielded prior by assumed innocence, now lurch off the page with utter contempt and I wonder now how half of them didn’t choke on the bile of the beast as it rose in their throats as they sat in a holy sanctuary in silent vigil knowing their sins of omission. Knowing what we believe to be true now, it is amazing they did not spontaneously combust in their hypocrisy.

Shall I list them for you… these people who played charades with other’s lives? Amongst the cherished friends and local gentile… there, penned in blood tainted ink before me now read the signatures of the following:

The alleged mistress.

The driver of the car who was there that night at the gas station/general store as G exchanged guns with the red headed go to man- the man who played tennis and painted signs- the man who told the shooter to shut up, go home and not come out till he was contacted.

The man who lied in his statements and misrepresented others and kept official records.

An FBI agent who rubber stamped the investigation.

The banker who ran the porn ring.

The man who lives next door to Rox’s final un-resting place.

The man who lied about where and what he was doing in Charley’s office that night at 1:00 in the morning.

The retired judge who withheld information that Charley was murdered- that it was a homicide and the judge that never told Hazel the truth- preventing the shooter from being prosecuted while he was still alive… the same retired judge who told me to back off and leave things alone- not to dig- not to pry- to let the children and the grandchildren of key players go to their graves thinking their namesakes were heroes and good guys.

Flowers sent from someone whose family farm now cradles the bones of Roxanne under water.

Flowers from the first witness who saw Charley’s body propped up against the front right tire of his vehicle on his way from work.

Flowers from an agent who looked the other way.

Flowers from the prison warden who pushed his parolees on Charley and Hazel for work.

Flowers from the alleged mistress.

Remarkably… not one of the four in flannel who killed Jessica and Rox, nor those that took part in the actual murder of Charley, the subsequent cover-up and beating of the MOT, sent flowers or were present at the funeral. Guess they were too busy tearing apart Charley’s house, his car and his office searching for the tape!

10/28/10

Today is October 28th… and while in the scheme of things it is just another day, for me this is a very special kind of day. As a young teen growing up in Iowa, I always remembered this date as being one of the most fabulous fall days of the year. Hardwood trees of every kind were ripe with color, especially sugar maples that were ablaze with fire and each breath of air held the crispness of a McIntosh apple within it. In fact, Oct. 28th was always such a glorious day that I often thought I might marry on that date.

I never did, mind you. I got married on a Labor Day weekend, because it was raining, we couldn’t go sailing and I didn’t want to do laundry! Ahhhhh… the extent I will go to get away from a washer and dryer!! Anyway, what I wish to say is that these last few days have been a whirlwind of information and discernment. I am appreciative for every piece to this puzzle and in my gratitude I am always humbled by the forces and the process by which I receive them–mostly by R who has held my hand and helped guide me along in this new path of discovery. It’s funny that all this has happened and yet maybe not so. When I was a kid- good Catholic girl that I am, I used to pray to be the first kid on the block to have a vision of the Blessed Virgin. Why? I don’t know… I just thought if the kids at Fatima could do it- why not me? Was I not just as special as they in my “mother’s” eyes? Anyway… the Holy Mother never appeared to me in person, but she sent the next best thing. My mother… who appeared before me each day with her whimsical smile and childish curiosity. She was the joy of my father’s life and a mentor and sage for me. Alone… a small spitfire, but together with my father… a dynamic duo to be reckoned with! Their loss for me was devastating. I often joke that I am a 52 year old orphan and as we are now doing the show of Annie… I look at those 22 young girls on stage and am comforted by the fact that they do not truly understand the role they now play. This is where Charley entered my life… orphaned, still with children of my own to guide and mentor… I needed something more than duty and obligation to hold onto; to divert heartache and to distract my every thought from.

To Charley I am forever indebted for his patience and his trust. You see, Charley entered my life when I needed him most. Julie obviously has always needed him in hers, but maybe… just maybe Charley understood that by entering mine- he might have a greater segue into hers. In order to see how grand life is, look at the long path this soul has traveled to get here.

Forget that it took until 1995 to get me to Jefferson where we bought a lovely 30 acre horse farm… forget that I had 3 children that went through the city school systems, one or two through her doors and forget that all 3 of these children ended up being theatre geeks. Now… toss in a few more years and you have one of Julie’s son’s, who while not a theatre geek in the slightest, happened to enjoy technology! Sound and lighting to be exact… theatre style! Thus, I employ him- reconnect with Julie and share one pizza and a bottle of wine over his birthday and… the now ever famous quote:
“Let me tell you a story about my daddy!”

All this to say that for the rest of my life, no matter the road that rises to meet me or the gutters that occasionally try to swallow… I know in my heart that I have others with me. That we each are not alone. I always suspected such to be true, but now I know and in that knowledge… I walk in trust. I know that my parents who have passed watch over me and try to buffer my ignorance with their wisdom- my imaptience with life, with their eternal outlook advantage and my sorrows with their compassion.

How do I know this? Because at the exact same time I received a message from R last night- direct from my parents, my sister sent me a photo she had found of my father through a text to my phone. They arrived at the exact same time to one heart, through two dfferent technologies.

So for Charley and my mother and father… on this most glorious fall day of the year… may I send you all my trust, my loyalty and my utmost affections and gratitude, asking that you all continue to guide and protect me from those who might wish to do me harm. Especially now when so much is at stake and when the stakes are so high. For I have so much more information to process and tell you about. In two days another report will wind its way through cyberspace and through the mail system… the wheels of justice turn… slowly… but they turn none the less and the book may beat them all to the punch- but they will have no choice then but to catch up! True justice will be served for those still alive… I promised Charley and as he has never let me down thus far, how could I possibly do less for him?

Here’s another few riddles for you:
What can you eat at, sit on and brush your teeth with?

Give up?

A table, a chair and a toothbrush!
Sometimes the obvious answers escape us! Now, here’s another one.

Apply the same rule…

What looked like a pool, acted like a grave and now appears as a farm?

Give up?
I don’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hmmmmmmm…