​During this pandemic, it may be hard to remember the last time we celebrated. I think it’s important to celebrate the little victories. When you celebrate, do your victory dance like a football player who scored a touchdown. Don’t have a victory dance? Make one up. Dance like no one’s watching, because… no one is watching unless you post it on Youtube.

Here are some little things worth celebrating:
​

• When you’re making pancakes and the first one comes out perfect.
• When your roll of toilet paper in the bathroom is nearly out, but there’s enough for you.
• You test negative for COVID-19. Okay, that one’s a biggy.
• You read the obituaries and don’t see your name.
• Losing one pound on your weight.
• Your favorite TV show is renewed for another season.
• You find a rerun that you haven’t seen on TV.
• The power goes out all over town but not on your block.
• You make yourself a cup of coffee and after adding cream and sugar, it comes out just right.
• You find a prize in your box of cereal.

Celebrate the these little victories, and you’ll feel great.

​CHAPTER 2


Molly looked at the security monitor. “Someone’s coming up the front sidewalk,” she informed Jen.

“Do we have an appointment today?” Jen asked.

“Not until 1 pm,” answered Molly. “This must be a walk-in. Looks like a young couple.”

When the couple reached the front door and rang the doorbell, Molly asked over the intercom, “May I help you?”

The young man looked around until he saw the camera. Looking at the camera he said, “We’d like to see Ms. Jennifer McDowell, please. We have urgent business.”

Molly rang them in as Jen walked over to the hallway and signal for them to come back to the office.
Jen and Molly introduced themselves and asked the young couple to sit down. “My name is Charlize

Wessel,” said the young woman. “and this is my boyfriend Maury Fincham.”

Molly entered their names into her computer while Jen removed a record from her desk. “Do you mind if we record this conversation?” she asked.

Charlize and Maury glanced at each other. “We rather not,” answered Charlie. “I’ll explain why in a minute.”

Jen turned off the record but left it on the table.

Charlize glanced at Maury who nodded. “I… We’d like to hire you,” she said. She reached over and took Maury’s hand.

Molly offered the couple some coffee or tea and busied herself with maneuvering her walker to the coffee pot and serving everyone.

Finally, Jen asked, “How can we be of service?”

Charlize looked at Maury who motioned for her to explain. “It’s a long story, but first is this confidential?”

“Yes,” answered Jen, “but if there’s a serious crime involved, we will advise you to notify the police. I must tell you that my boyfriend is a police detective and I’m a medically retired police officer.”

“We know,” replied Charlize. “That’s one reason we came to you for help.”

“Why don’t you start by telling us what’s going on and we’ll advise you on the best course of action.”

Maury sighed, “We think someone has been murdered. Molly gasped and looked at Jen. They both sat back in their seats “Not by us,” Maury quickly added. “By someone we know.”

“Why can’t you tell the police?” Molly asked.

Charlize leaned forward. “Because if I do, they’ll arrest me and Maury for other crimes.”

“What crime?” Jen asked.

“Identity theft,” Charlize answered.

Jen sat back in her chair and thought for a moment. She looked at Molly with raised eyebrows. “What the fuck?”

Molly stood up and using her desk for balance, moved to the front and leaned back on her desk. “Let’s do this,” she said. “Tell us what’s going on and we’ll see if we can work out a deal with the police. If what you say is true, you might get a plea deal to avoid jail time.”

Charlize and Maury looked at each other. “Okay,” Charlize said.

Jen turned the recorder on. “Do you have to record this?” Charlize asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Jen answered. “But if we don’t take the case, we’ll give you the recording.”

“Okay,” Charlize answered.

 “Okay,” said Jen. “Start at the beginning.”

“Here’s what happened. Maury and I live together in Chicago. I work in a jewelry store in the loop. It doesn’t pay much, mostly on commission. To make extra money, I steal identities. Maury is into photography and he helps me forger driver licenses or anything else I might need. I make small Charles on their credit cards; not a lot.”

“Wow,” Molly said. “So how does a murder fit into this?”

“Well. A couple of weeks ago, a guy came into the store and asked for me by name. I never met the
​guy before.”

I was taking a shower the other day when I ran out of shampoo. I reached for my wife’s shampoo and read the label. The label had a long list of ingredients that weren’t contained in that product. I never heard of any of them. I’m now convinced that they were made up. As a public service, with apologies to Lewis Carroll, I will now list all the ingredients that aren’t contained in this blog.
​
This blog doesn’t contain any brillig, slithy toves, gyre, gimble, wabe, mimsy, borogoves, momes, raths, outgrabe, jabberwocks, jubjub birds, frumious bandersnatches, vorpals, manxomes,  tumtum trees, uffish, tulgey wood, burbles, snicker-snacks, galumphing backs, calloohs, or callays.
It might contain a small amount of humor, some wit and a drop of sarcasm.  Enjoy.
Stay safe.

My newest novel, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. My current work in progress is the second in  the Jennifer McDowell series. Here is an exert:

CHAPTER 1
Jennifer “Jen” McDowell was finally settling into her new career as a private investigator. The publicity from her undercover operation that exposed a bomber and a sniper was a boon to her business. She had enough offers that she could be selective. There was more than enough business to keep her busy for months if not for years. She decided not to accept any more cheating spouse cases. She just didn’t to be that kind of PI.

Her partnership with Molly Lovelace, her best friend was working out well. Both women had double prothesis below the knees and both suffered from PTSD; Jen from an ambush while she was still on the Atlanta Police and Molly from an IED in Afghanistan. They met through a PTSD therapy group and became fast friends. When Molly was attacked and nearly killed by a white supremacy hate group, Jen offered her a full partnership in her private eye business.

Jen turned one of the spare bedrooms into an office in the home she shared with her two boyfriends/lovers, Dr. Curtis ‘Doc’ Betts and Jonah Magliozzi. Molly was finally at a point in her rehab where she could come to the office to work. Outside Molly needed to use a walker, but inside the office there was enough furniture for her to lean on if she needed to. Molly also brought her service dog, Prada to work with her. Prada was an older greyhound who had suffered an accident and had both her rear legs amputated. She was fitted with set of wheels that made her mobile. Jen and Molly fell in love with her the moment they set eyes on her at the shelter.

Jen and Molly split up the various office duties to cover all bases. Molly was in charge of the website, answering the telephone and emails, and the schedule. Jen did all the “leg” work, met with clients outside the office and used her connections with the police to gather information as needed.  Leg work was an inside joke since neither of them had legs. Jen was a former police officer. Her old partner and current lover, Johan was a detective with the homicide department of the Atlanta Police.

My newest novel, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. It will be the first in a series. If you would like to order, the link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN.
Here’s a sample:
​
Chapter 3 The Dark Web
 
Jen needed to find a way to get on the dark web and retrieve the information he wanted about the alt-right boot camp. She would have to ask Jonah to help. The best way to get Jonah to help her would be to feed him his favorite meal—pot roast. Jen decide to cook a pot roast even though it wasn’t her turn to cook.

After dinner, Jen asked Jonah if he could help her get on the dark web.

Jonah laughed and pushed back from the table. “So that’s why you made pot roast. Sorry, I don’t know anything about the dark web, but I know who does. Do you remember that guy, Pete, who works in vice?”

“You mean Pervert Pete?”

Jonah laugh again. “I didn’t realize other people called him that. Anyway, he poses as an under-aged teen to trap pedophiles. He uses the dark web sometimes. I could ask him to meet with you.”
“No, no. I don’t want to meet with him in person. All he does is stare at my chest—never makes eye contact. I could meet him on facetime.”

The next day Jonah talked to Pete and he agreed to help Jen. Just before the meeting, Jen checked out her wardrobe. She was wearing blue jeans which wouldn’t show on face time, and she was wearing a professional looking blouse. She decided to unbutton the top button. After a look in the mirror, she unbuttoned another button. To hell with this, she thought. I want this to be professional. She buttoned up her blouse.

The meeting with Pete went well. Jonah told him what Jen needed, and he already had it downloaded and ready for Jen. It included an application to attend the boot camp. The boot camp was in Idaho and was conducted over a two-week period. The first week included basic military training like marksmanship, survival skills, patrolling, marching, physical fitness and hand-to-hand combat. The second week included more classroom instruction like living off the grid, organizing protests, bomb making, creating identities, cyber security and hacking into websites. The afternoons were devoted to marksmanship or shooting practice. The only problem was that it had to be submitted by the commander of the local chapter. Jen decided she would have to go undercover and join the local hate group to get nominated for the alt-right boot camp.

At dinner that night, Jen told Doc and Jonah about her plan to infiltrate a local chapter of anarchists. It went about as she expected. She knew her boys were very protective of her, but sometimes they treat her as a helpless invalid.

Doc spoke up first, “Not only no, but hell no. It’s too dangerous. These groups have little regard for life. If they discover you’re not who you say you are, they’ll kill you.”

Jonah agreed with Doc, “You won’t be able to pull it off. Your face was plastered all over the local news and even the national news when you were ambushed. Someone will recognize you. If the bomber is in the group, he sure as hell will recognize you.”
​
Jonah made a good point. Jen decide she would never be able to get nominated to the alt-right boot camp—ever.

Jeff looked up from his computer to see his wife standing nearby glaring at him. Her arms were crossed, never a good sign. She held a piece of paper in one hand. She wasn’t talking, also a bad sign. Jeff knew he was in trouble, he just didn’t what he had done.

Finally, his wife broke her cold silence. “So, you’re the blogger of this blog?” She held out the paper. Jeff glanced at it. “You’re writing a blog called ‘Take my Wife, Please?”

Sheepishly, Jeff nodded. Jeff’s wife hit him with the printout. “You’re writing personal stuff about me, about us.”

“No, no,” insisted Jeff. “It’s not personal, just funny stuff.”

“Yesterday, you posted that I keep saying I can read minds, but I can’t because I’m telepathetic.”
“See, funny right?”

“Not funny. This morning you quoted me as saying that we that our neighbor always kisses his wife when he leaves for work, and we should do that. Then you posted your reply, ‘How can I? I don't even know her.’ Not funny, Jeff. You make me sound stupid.”

“I’m just trying to be funny,” Jeff said in his defense. “No one thinks you’re stupid. They don’t know you.” Jeff’s wife folder her arms again. “Okay, maybe that didn’t come out right.”

“Yeah,” Jeff’s wife screamed. “Last week you wrote that I asked you to taste some meat to see if it was okay to feed the dog.” Jeff started to chuckle but stopped when his wife glared at him. “Then when I went to the butcher and asked him to cut some steaks for me, he said the meat was good because it tasted it. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant.”

“Okay, maybe one guy knows who you are. What are the odds that anyone else who follows my blog knows you?”

“A couple of days ago, you wrote that I tried to smother you with a pillow while you were sleeping. Then the next day when I went to the store, the male cashier asked me if I was shopping for new pillows.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I meant no harm.”

“It stops right now. If you post anything else, I will smother you in your sleep.” Jeff’s wife stormed out of the room.
​
Jeff’s next post read, “It is with great sadness that I must inform all my followers that due to circumstances beyond my control, I must stop this post un penalty of death. Take care and be good your wives.”
 END

My newest novel, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. It will be the first in a series. If you would like to order, the link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN.
Here’s a sample:

Chapter 2 A New Day

After a few minutes, Doc’s alarm went off, but he didn’t budge. Jen put her lips next to his ear. “Time to get up, Lover,” she whispered.

“Ten more minutes,” Doc replied.

“No, No,” Jen insisted. “Yesterday you were almost late for surgery. If you want to work out, you must get up now.” Doc just grunted. Jen took his ear lobe in her teeth and whispered, “Get up or I’ll bite. You know I’ll do it.”

Doc sat up. “I’m up. I’m up.” He stood up, still groggy and started to put on gym shorts. “Are you joining me?”

“Yeah.” Jen crawled out of bed and stood up on her stumps. She took out a clean pair of panties. She stopped wearing any underwear to bed since she started living with two men. They either got torn or stretched out of shape. She sat down on the bed, so Doc could help put on her stump liners and then her two carbon blades.

Doc nodded toward Jonah. “Late night?”

“Yeah,” Jen answered. “He didn’t get in until 0300 hours. He was on a stakeout. It’ll be on the news. He doesn’t have to be at work until noon.” Jonah had a lot more stakeouts since making detective and joining the homicide department.

“You were awake when he came in?” Doc asked as he finished helping Jen put on her blades.

“Yeah. Bad night. Migraines and flashbacks.”

“What’s your pain level at the moment?” Doc asked concerned.

“Oh, a five or six, I guess.” Jen answered. “It was a nine a few hours ago. My head is still throbbing.”

“You should have woken me. Okay, I’m going to give you a pain pill.” Doc disappeared into the walk-in closet and returned with a container of pills. Jen had tried to find where he hides them but had no luck. Doc took off the cap and handed Jen one pill. “I’ll give you another one when I get home.”

Jen was disappointed. She wanted two. “Maybe you should give me another pill in case you have to work late.”
​
“If I have to work late, I’ll call Jonah and tell him where the pills are hidden.” Jen made a pouty face.

“Listen honey, we went down this path during your recovery. I’m not going to let you get addicted again.”

“But I feel better when I take those meds,” Jen retorted.

“Yeah, but you turn into a real bitch and lay around the house all day doing nothing. Never again.”

Jen put her arms around Doc. “That’s why I love you and need you. I need your strength. It’s also why I hate you.” She popped the pill into her mouth. Doc handed her a water bottle from the nightstand.

“Okay, then. Just you and me this morning.” Doc helped Jen stand up, and they headed toward the in-house gym. “What are you doing today?”

“Treadmill. I’m up to two miles today. What are you doing?”

“Let’s see. Today’s Tuesday, so I’m going to cycle for thirty minutes and do some upper body weights.”

“Maybe I’ll just watch you,” Jen said with a coy smile. Doc had the build of a body builder.

“No. No. No, you don’t. It’s your turn to make breakfast.”

Jen pouted again. “I made breakfast yesterday.”

“Day-old doughnuts don’t count,” Doc replied and laughed.

“Okay, hard ass,” Jen said. “Would an omelet and bacon satisfy you?”
​
 “Sounds good.”

My newest novella, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. It will be the first in a series. If you would like to order, the link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Below is an exert from the book:
 
Chapter 1 Ambush

Jen McDowell and Jonah Magliozzi were partners on the Atlanta police force. They were more than partners. They responded to an anonymous call about homeless persons living in an abandoned house. The caller said it looked like they were starting fires and thought they might be cooking meth. No one responded to their knock on the front door, and the door was nailed shut. She and Jonah decided to split up and circle the house to find another entrance. Halfway round the house, Jen found an outside stairway leading down to a basement door. The door appeared to be ajar. She radioed Jonah and told him she was going to check the door.

Halfway down the steps, an IED on her right side exploded, mangling both her legs below the knees. Her body armor and helmet protected most of her upper torso and head. Shrapnel torn up her right thigh except where her sidearm was holstered. Most of her right arm was spared, because she was talking on the radio with her right hand by her mouth. A piece of shrapnel tore through both cheeks, taking out a few teeth. Another piece of shrapnel struck her in the neck, missing the carotid artery by a fraction of an inch.

Jen screamed loud enough to wake herself up. Her boyfriend, Dr. Curtis ‘Doc’ Betts, rolled over and encased her in his strong arms; so tight Jen could feel his heartbeat against her bare back. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe. You’re home in bed with us. It’s okay. You’re having a nightmare.” Jen felt safer. Her breathing started to return to normal. “Another nightmare?” Doc asked.
​
“No,” Jen answered. The same one. Sorry to wake you.” Jen looked to her left at her other boyfriend, Jonah. He had just rolled over and was facing away from her. Jen lay in Doc’s embrace wide awake but feeling safe. She listened as Doc’s breathing returned to a slower rhythm that told her he was asleep once more.