Miss Kitty’s surprise arrived approximately one hour later. It was sunny and hot, I recall. The temperature was climbing to ninety degrees, and quickly. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the humidity was like fog, thick and unbearable. A blue pickup with a ladder rack pulled up in front of the Tudor. Planks of long oak boards and two ladders were strapped over the truck’s rack, safely tied down with colorful bungees. White lettering on the truck’s doors read: Bascoe Construction. Below the name of the company were an Erie address and a local phone number. A blurb beneath the business information read: Constructing Life for You.
I was on the front porch rewriting chapter three of my next mystery, looked up from my handwritten notes, and watched a six-two-framed man climb out of the picku
