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The first glimmer of early morning rays of sunshine seem to caress the world laying in slumber, changing the simple morning dew into a blanket of diamonds clinging to every blade of grass and flowering blossom. The growing symphony of birds singing in the trees, the occasional sound of a dog barking and the whirl of vehicle engines as friends and neighbors drove off into the new day of whatever life held for them, rising in a crescendo complimenting the scenery in a glorious tapestry of life. I had decided to bide my time by searching for and pulling any weeds which may have cropped up in my garden, as I eagerly awaited the arrival of my morning guest. This chore of de-weeding my garden was one I didn’t care for but have found if I didn’t take five minutes a day to vanquish any intruders, my flowers, would soon be overrun; ruining the carefully planned beauty of the landscaping I was so proud of. It didn’t take long before (to my pleasure) my online contact came jogging up the. I couldn't tell anything else, due to the shearling jacket. She was sopping up the gravy on her nearly empty plate with a dinner roll. A mug close at hand said 'Stolen from Wilson & Wilson, Attorneys.'She spoke again: "Put him on my tab, Darla. He's obviously new to town and needs some guidance about good food ... Why'n'cha come set a spell, cowboy?" And she pushed the salt and pepper shakers to the side to make room for me.I took up my soda and 'set' at her table for a spell. "Thanks. Open face roast beef, huh?" On Tuesdays. It's the special. If you hang around to Wednesday, I'll tell you about the meatloaf." She smiled. It was a good smile, one that crinkled her eyes and showed lots of even, white teeth. "I'm A.C. Wilson." She stuck out her hand.I shook it. Good firm grip, dry palm. "Robert Metcalf. You the Wilson of Wilson & Wilson?" I gestured toward the mug."Nope. The Wilson was my dad. I'm the other Wilson."That's when I noticed her eyes. They were almost a golden color – on.
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" Well these are American weeds I think," I said."All weeds are alike," he said."Except the kind you smoke," I added. We were still on the porch with the beer when my old phone rang. "Hello," I replied."This is Rita, I'm at the Rural Police sub station in Williamston. What should I do now?" she asked. I had put her on speaker so Buddy could hear."Tell her to meet us in Mossberg, she can stay with us," he said. I grinned at Buddy."Rita why don't we put you up where I am staying till they release my house?" I said."Sounds reasonable," she said. I grinned again."Meet me in front of my house. You will recognize it by the crime scene tape and the cop car in front," I said.It was a half hour later when I met the woman who was pushing fifty with flaming red hair. She had those grandmother boobs and wide ass of an older black woman. I had to admit that her dye job was excellent and meant to be recognized as a dye job. "You must be Rita," I said extending my hand."And you are Rose also known.

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