In an attempt to combat the dullness of her later years, Nellie decides to become an undercover detective—without benefit of training—but her early attempts make her aware that she needs a male escort to get her into the kinds of places where she hopes to hear of upcoming illegal activities. Where better to find a man she could hire cheaply than a soup-kitchen frequented by the homeless? This decision not only changes her everyday experiences; it changes her entire life.
June 6
Dear Jen,
You’ve got a lot of nerve, asking me if I was turning into a psalm-singer. Your letter got me so mad that I considered not writing to you anymore. Why do you think I sounded critical about the neighbor’s drinking? I didn’t say anything bad about it. I’ll admit I mentioned that smoking pot is illegal, but it isn’t like I care. As for the drinking, no, I haven’t changed. I still consume my nightly ration of whiskey (only two doses), but I don’t start until after I’ve come in from the back yard.
I’m giving you another chance, but any more stupid questions or insinuations like that, and cousins or not, we’re through. Don’t forget.
Well, I hope your memory is as good as mine because I remember that in my last letter, I promised to tell you about the husband this time. I’d have to call him “swarthy”—does that word sound kinda sinister to you like it does to me? He
s a pretty big man, black hair (and lots of it), and looks like he always needs a shave. Much as I don’t like to think of it, a lot of men look that way anymore. I don’t know what happened to taking pride in your appearance. And the women aren’t much better. I won’t even mention the teenagers. I try not to look at them.
Anyway, this man doesn’t seem to have a regular job. He’s in and out of the house at odd times of the day. My guess would be that when he’s out, he’s arranging drug deals. And like most of those kinds of people, he’s lazy. You know their front lawn isn’t any bigger than mine, and while I can manage to push my little mower around because I know the exercise is good for me, this big ugly crook hires his done. I’m gonna try to time my mowing to when I see his car pulling into their driveway so he’ll see me and maybe feel ashamed of himself. He probably won’t, but it’s worth a try.
Are you still having trouble with your sciatica? Be sure and let me know.
Love, Nell