Donna Louise here. Anyone leave an autographed box set of the “Fifty Shades of Gray” trilogy at the block party? You can call Clarice and claim it, but I’ll warn you that she’ll talk bad about you and your taste in reading material. If you have teenage children, send them to reclaim it for you. (And, NO, it isn’t mine.)

The police detectives took my missing person’s report, but they didn’t seem too interested in solving the case. Can’t say as I blame them. No sign of any struggles in the house. They noted that she’d left her dentures behind and all of her wigs.

When Yank asked me if I knew whether she owned more than one pair of dentures, I had to admit that I hadn’t known she wore dentures or wigs. He asked, “Then why are the dentures and wigs important here?” I referred him to Clarice who seemed to know more about Vivian’s dental history and hair woes than I did.

When the mail came this afternoon, I leafed through it. The usual advertisements for a free weekend at the lake appeared, but they try to intimidate you into buying a condo. I don’t bother going anymore. Then there was the ad for water line insurance sent out by the city. What a scam. Someone at city is making some money off that one.

Then I see the statue of the Pony Express rider that sits next to City Hall in St. Joseph, Missouri. Turns out it’s a postcard from Vivian with a short message.

“Dear Donna Louise, stopped at Love’s Truck Stop for a cup of coffee to stay awake. Still have a long way to go. Sorry I left so abruptly, but emergencies don’t always happen at convenient times. Don’t worry about me. Love, Vivian”

The same handwriting graced the back of the postcard as was on the note stuck in my door. If someone other than Vivian is sending these messages, they want to convince me that she’s alright. I’ll show the note to Clarice to see what she thinks. Is it Vivian’s handwriting or not?

Then again, who would drive fifty miles to St. Joe to mail a postcard just to convince us that the emergency was real?

I’m going back to the house by myself to do more checking on my own. I must have overlooked something before Clarice’s scream stopped my search. Then the detectives came and prevented me from nosing around. Better to investigate by myself.

Oh, by the way, Mr. Singersanger came home from the hospital today. He looks so much better although he lost the color in his face when I told him about Vivian’s disappearance. Poor man, it must have been a shock to him. They traded plants and shared gardening tips. I better be more careful in the future about sharing upsetting information with him. I don’t want him to drop dead on my account.

 

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