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Radio Days Pt. 01

By: coaster2



Authors note: When I first started reading the works of one of my pulp fiction favorites, John D. MacDonald (Travis McGee, et al), I was fascinated with his ability to construct plots that were convoluted, and yet still not beyond the realm of possibility. Although he was known for his mystery/adventure stories, he wrote several other books, including an early fantasy: The Girl, The Gold Watch and Everything. It is with unashamed admiration that I stole the concept for this story. R.I.P. J.D.!

As always, my thanks to ErikThread for his skillful and insightful editing. Any errors or omissions are mine alone.

Part One: The Inheritance

I learned of the death of my uncle, Darby Morton Hanswatter, by letter from the law firm of Bindle and Snipe. A certain Mr. Felix Bindle, LLB, wrote advising me that I was the only living heir of the deceased, and would I kindly respond so that they might effect the reading of the will and proceed with probate of the estate. I was shocked and surprised that I had been named in his will, but I supposed it was a case of being the last one standing.

My name is Oswald Charles Hanswatter. My friends call me "Ozzie" or sometimes just "Oz." I am forty-one years old and once again a bachelor. It would appear that whatever inheritance would fall to me from my uncle's estate would end with me since my ex-wife and I had no children. 

It set me to thinking. I wondered what the old man could possibly have that would enhance my life. He never appeared to have much money and he lived in such modest circumstances that it was unlikely he had squirreled some substantial nest-egg away in secret. 

I too lived modestly. I was the county assessor for Tinsley County, Idaho. As such, I was one of the most misunderstood people in town. It was my department that determined just how much property tax landowners should be responsible for each year. Default, and the county would seize property to resolve the tax liability. I had a number of other responsibilities, chief of which was to cover my boss's ass, Revenue Commissioner Milo Selwind. It was a job that neither boosted one's ego nor made one popular in your own community. 

I believe I am a rational, methodical type personality. Perhaps boring to some, but it helps me keep perspective with what's going on around me. I don't tend to over-react in a crisis. Then again, my job seldom presents crisis situations. 

My personality was, I believe, the principal reason for my renewed bachelorhood. My wife ran off with a somewhat questionable land developer in the thought that he could provide her with a better, more exciting life. Perhaps he has. I have neither seen nor heard from her in four years. The divorce had been quickly finalized.

As is common with lawyers, you are expected to go to them rather than they come to you. The letter was quite specific that I should meet Mr. Bindle on his turf. It would mean almost a day's drive to Paramount, my uncle's hometown, and I certainly hoped it would be worth the time and expense. I telephoned the gentleman, and together we set a time for our meeting and the reading of the will. It was to be on the following Wednesday, five days hence. 

Mr. Bindle offered to make a motel reservation for me, a service for which I am sure his firm would charge the estate. I agreed and spent the brief balance of the call trying to wheedle more information from the man about the inheritance. I got nothing for my efforts. I would just have to wait for the Wednesday meeting.

I hadn't been in Paramount since my teenage years and my arrival on Tuesday afternoon reminded me why. It was a lifeless little settlement, with nothing whatsoever to recommend it. There was no dominant industry, and thus there was nothing to support growth. It was just a place to live. It had the requisite grocery store, gas stations, hardware and building materials stores and two old-fashioned motels, one on each end of Main Street.

I checked into the Paramount Arms Motor Inn just before the supper hour. Despite the upscale name, the fifteen units were nondescript and quite dated -- the nightly rate of $29 reflecting that. I looked about the town for a likely restaurant, but found only a pair of small diners, one at each end of the street. I wouldn't be spending any extra hours in Paramount once the will had been read, that was certain.

I appeared at the front door of Bindle and Snipe promptly at nine the next morning as requested. I was greeted by a middle-aged woman with 1950's attire and a hairdo to match. I began to wonder if I had accidently stepped onto the set of some low-budget movie. She courteously showed me into a large, paneled office, and a tall, thin, balding man rose from his outsized leather chair and held out his hand.

"Mr. Hanswatter, I assume," he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

"Yes ... you must be Mr. Bindle," I replied.

"Yes indeed. Please have a seat, Mr. Hanswatter. I'd like to get this underway as quickly as possible. I have a very busy day ahead of me," he smiled without humor.

I sat down and we began. He handed me a copy of the will and we went through it line by line. I thought I might nod off if he didn't get to the point of the whole exercise soon. His voice had an almost hypnotic effect. I wondered if this was his principal tool in the courtroom; numbing the jury.

When he got to the meat of the issue, I nearly fainted dead away. My uncle's net worth was something on the order of thirty-seven million dollars. For a brief moment, I had a vision of me swimming in dollar bills, wondering what ridiculous excesses I could spend them on. That all came to a crashing halt when he read the next sentence. The man had left every last dime of it to charity; specifically shelters for the homeless in a variety of cities around the country.

I sank back in the chair. I had driven all the way from home to Paramount to listen to the unctuous blatherings of some lawyer playing this enormous prank at my expense. I was beginning to get angry.

"Mr. Bindle, do you mean to tell me I spent all this effort to come here to find out I am to receive nothing?" My voice was rising as I went along.

"No, no, of course not, my dear man! Nothing of the kind!" he exclaimed. "Your uncle has left you this letter and this small carton. Perhaps the letter will explain his actions more clearly. I can tell you that when he wrote this will some years ago, he thought it would be very controversial, but he assured me that it wasn't some cruel hoax being perpetrated on his heirs. 

"He changed the will on the death of your mother, the only other remaining Hanswatter besides yourself. He was very serious about this, I can tell you as a certainty. He was sure you, of all people, would recognize the significance of this gift."

I looked at the tall, gaunt figure of Felix Bindle and saw nothing but clear-eyed sincerity. I was reasonably convinced that he was giving me the straight goods. I accepted the letter and the carton, shook his hand and left the office, not a little mystified at what had taken place.

Thirty-seven million dollars, dangled briefly in front of my nose and then snatched away in an instant. I wondered vaguely if I should contest the will. Even if I could pry loose only a few million, I would be set for life. A very happy and luxurious life at that.

When I returned to the motel, I sat down at the aging desk and carefully opened the letter. It was hand-written very nicely in ink with an old-fashioned script. I turned on the desk lamp and began to read.

My dear nephew Oswald. 

It's been quite a long time since I've seen you. I know that you have had a busy life in Little River, but I miss the happy times your mother and I shared with you those lovely summer days so long ago. 

I'm sure you must be shocked at the choice I have made in the distribution of my wealth. It took me some time to know what I could do with all that money that would actually benefit people who truly needed my help. I hope I have chosen wisely, but I will never know. Perhaps you can check up on the recipients and see for yourself if I have helped make their lives better.

As for you, I am handing you a puzzle. You may do with it what you wish. I do hope that you think about it very carefully before you either discard it or use it. If you choose to take advantage of this gift, I ask sincerely that you do so carefully. You will understand my admonition as you attempt to solve the puzzle. 

Just one final thing to remember. What you hear may be more than you understand, but it is worth listening to.

With love, respect and best wishes, 

Uncle Darby

I sat looking at the flowing penmanship of the old man. I was conscious of the curiosity he had now kindled in me. What had he left me in that small carton that might solve this puzzle? What puzzle? I reached for the carton and broke the seal on the top flap and peered inside. I reached inside with my fingers and extracted the contents.

I appeared to be an old transistor radio. It was housed in a pale blue plastic case with a small chrome aerial and a tacky fabric cover over what presumably was the speaker. The case was the shape of a medium sized pocket book and I guessed the radio's age to be at least forty years.

I was reasonably confident of its age because it had only an AM band on the simple rotary dial. Aside from a small volume control which probably included the on-off switch, it was as basic as it could be. I looked to see if it had any batteries installed, but on cursory inspection, I was unable to find any hatch or opening that would contain a power source. In addition, there was no AC cord or receptacle for a DC transformer. Was this the puzzle?

I looked at the device carefully, but could see nothing that indicated frequency numbers or a manufacturer's brand name. Perhaps it wasn't a radio. Perhaps it was some other type of receiver; short wave or CB or ... what? Only one way to find out. I turned the small black knob clockwise. Hearing a click, the sound of static was immediately forthcoming. I raised the aerial and turned the radio in several directions, but still heard nothing but static.

I began to turn the tuning dial slowly clockwise. When I had moved it only slightly, I could hear a voice. It was a man's voice. I turned the volume knob and the voice came clearly through the speaker.

"President Barnaby has signed the controversial housing bill that narrowly squeaked through Congress. The signing ceremony was held on the White House lawn in brilliant late winter sunshine in the presence of the Secretary of Urban Housing, Elijah Mellor and a host of advocates for low-cost urban shelter and homes. The landmark legislation will provide ten billion dollars per year for the next twenty years to fund construction of thousands of houses in the poorest sections of America's largest cities." 

I set the radio on the desk in front of me, barely able to concentrate on that simple act. Who the hell was President Barnaby? What Urban Housing bill? Two hundred billion dollars dedicated to housing? This must be some kind of hoax ... or have I been living in a cave for the last few years? 

"In other news, pitchers have begun reporting to the World Champion Washington Nationals at their new training facility in Sarasota, Florida. The defending champs are expected to field an equally strong lineup this year with the addition of free-agent veteran reliever Tom Lumpkin and perennial all-star, slugger Mort Sidle."

Now, this was getting crazy. I knew baseball like I knew my own family. I had never heard of "reliever Tom Lumpkin" or "slugger Mort Sidle." I'd heard of Sarah Sidle, but not Mort. Could I be that out of touch with my all-time favorite sport? No ... no way! And, on top of that, the Washington Nationals! Who are they trying to kid? The last I looked at the standings, they were over twenty games out of a wild-card, much less the division title. 

Someone was playing a joke on me. I stopped to think for a moment. There was another issue that suddenly hit home. My meeting with Mr. Felix Bindle was held at nine in the morning on Wednesday, August 12, 2007. The housing bill was signed in "late winter" and the baseball report was about pitchers reporting for spring training -- a mid-February event. I reached for the little black knob and turned the radio off.

I leaned back in the chair and stared at the little device. "What the hell was going on?" I asked myself for the fourth or fifth time. Was this the puzzle? It seemed like it, but what kind of a puzzle? Why did Uncle Darby think I was suited to solving this puzzle? I got up from the desk and walked around the motel room aimlessly as I tried to think what was going on.

It was a waste of time. My mind wouldn't comprehend what was happening with this "radio." It was talking about a fictional president, a fictional housing bill, and just as equally fictional, the World Champion Washington Nationals! I sat looking out the window of the dreary motel room and promptly made a decision. I carefully placed the little blue radio in its carton and prepared to leave for home.

I was packed and checked out within fifteen minutes and on the road toward Little River. I'm not absolutely sure why, but I had a sense of urgency about my return home. It felt important that I get there as quickly as possible. In the confines of my modest little bungalow I could dedicate myself to unraveling the puzzle of the powder-blue machine. As I drove, I began to plan my method for solving the unexplainable message the radio delivered. 

I wondered if this radio may have been a source of Uncle Darby's wealth. In some way, he may have been able to use the device to make money ... a very large amount of money. Although there had been no outward signs of his financial wellbeing, the money was real enough and Bindle made no bones about the fact that the money and the radio were somehow tied to each other. 

I arrived at my house just after ten that evening. I was weary from the long drive, but excited about solving the mystery of my inheritance. I dropped my bag in the bedroom closet and returned to the kitchen table where I had left the carton on my way through. I sat looking at it for a few minutes as I tried to organize my thoughts into a coherent plan of action.

My first decision was to investigate the radio more closely. What was its power source? How many stations would it receive? My hands shook slightly as I extracted the little plastic device from the carton. I turned it over and over, looking at all sides and edges. There was absolutely no sign of any opening for batteries or any other power source. 

I went to my "junk drawer," took out a small magnifying glass, and revisited my examination of the case. It appeared to be seamless. I briefly thought of removing the tacky fabric cover over the speaker, then changed my mind. The last thing I wanted to do was to damage the little machine before I understood it.

I sat staring at it once more before I reached tentatively for the little black knob and turned it gently clockwise. Again, only the sound of static. I carefully moved the tuner dial clockwise and soon found a station. I turned up the volume.

"In local news, Saddlebrook County Zoning Chief, Carlton Shambles, was arrested this afternoon on charges of accepting bribes and breach of trust. Also arrested were local property developers Burk Dunkley and Martha Lashem. Both have been charged with offering bribes. An anonymous tip from a well-placed source led to police undercover operations, revealing the illegal activities. The trio will be arraigned on June 19th in County Court." 

I was in shock. My wife ... my ex-wife, Martha, was arrested with that scumbag she ran off with. But she was no more a property developer than I was German royalty. She was nothing more than a pincushion for Dunkley. This didn't make sense. Nothing coming out of that radio made sense. And, once again, the timing didn't make sense. It was August and they wouldn't be arraigned for ten months? And since when did that little shit Shambles get to be the head of Zoning? He's nothing more than a file clerk.

I had to get control of this somehow. I had a hunch what I might be hearing, but it was so bizarre, so preposterous, I couldn't get my head around it. I had to find a way to figure out what was going on with this radio. My thought was to revert to my original plan formulated on my way home. I would get one of my big legal pads and start writing down what I was hearing. Then, I would systematically tune the radio to various stations in sequence, noting what I heard as I went along. 

I started with what I could remember from this morning's broadcasts, then the one I had just heard. I listed all the names and specifics I could remember on the pad. When I had written what I could recall, I sat looking at the pad and wondering what next? An idea that came to mind was to Google some of this and see if anything came up.

I took the pad into the office that I had created from my second bedroom. I sat in front of my computer screen for a couple of minutes with my mind wandering in twenty different directions. I had to start somewhere, so I began with typing in Elijah Mellor. It was the only complete name I could remember from the housing story. 

It was a minor item on page three of the Google listings, but it caught my eye.

"Elijah Mellor tosses hat in ring," the headline read. "Elijah Mellor, well known local builder and philanthropist, has revealed he will stand for election to the State Senate in Sacramento. Mr. Mellor cited his desire to promote the concepts of urban renewal through low-cost housing and low-cost lending to first-time buyers."

The story went on to describe Mellor's activities and political leanings, although the story made it clear he would stand for election as an independent. 

I leaned back in my chair. It fit. It was a perfect fit with the radio news story, but ...! I checked the date of the story and found it was published May 20, 2007, only three months ago. Not much time to launch a campaign and still have a chance to raise the funds necessary to get elected. 

-0-

Little River, Idaho, was my hometown. I was born here and I suppose I'll likely live here for the rest of my days. There are 4,883 people living here at last count, almost one thousand of them property owners. I like this town and I like Idaho. If my wife hadn't run off with that greasy asshole Dunkley, I'd have a damn nice life. 

Martha and I had been married just over ten years when she surprised me with her departure.

"Ozzie, I want you to know that I think you're a fine man and a caring husband, but I'm afraid that just isn't enough. I'm leaving you. I've found someone who can give me all the things that you are unable to. I'm sorry if this is hurtful, but I'll never be happy with this life the way it is. It just isn't exciting enough for me. I wish you well." 

She said all this as she stood in the kitchen one morning, wearing her coat and holding two suitcases. She turned and left without saying another word. I was dumbfounded. She had never hinted that she was unhappy or unfulfilled in our marriage. It would be several days later that I discovered the truth. 

Martha worked part time at a local real estate office and met Burk Dunkley when he was looking for some property for a small housing development. Burk was nothing if not self-confident and he gave Martha the impression that he was a substantial "wheeler-dealer" in the property world in southern Idaho and eastern Oregon. In fact, he was a small-time hustler with a reputation for shady land transactions, often featuring elderly widows.

Burk was a handsome man in his late forties, with wavy black hair and a big toothy smile. He wore expensive suits with flashy ties and drove a fancy car. In Martha's eyes he oozed success. She found out later that it was all an illusion. As the local saying goes: "Big car -- big cigar -- no gas!"


Radio Days Pt. 01



Since Martha had abandoned me, our divorce was uncontested and I was unburdened with either alimony or property settlement issues. If Martha had come back to me after discovering how hollow Burk was, I might have considered taking her back. After all, we're all entitled to one mistake. Instead, she decided to reform Burk. She would turn him from a small-timer into a big-timer.

I was lost for quite a few months. I got up in the morning, ate breakfast, made my lunch, went to work at the county office, came home, ate dinner, watched TV or read, and went to bed. I had no sense of purpose during that time. I was just filling the hours. During the spring and summer, I would often drive around looking for a baseball or softball game I could watch. I loved that game, and it was my only relief from the dreary passage of each day.

Finally, I began to realize that what had happened wasn't my fault, so why should I continue to languish in the morose wilderness I had created for myself? I decided I needed to change my life.

I started by taking some night-school classes on computer software applications. I had a good understanding of the basics to start with since all of my work and records were computerized. However, there were a number of interesting programs that I wasn't familiar with and the courses would be helpful. It would also be handing me something to do with my spare time. 

In addition, I started to think about finding another relationship. I had been badly burned by Martha, but I concluded that it shouldn't mean I couldn't find another woman who might be more compatible with my ambitions. The big question, of course, was who? And what did I want to do with my life. Aside from my job and my love of baseball, I really didn't have anything interesting to offer a woman. 

For the first time since I had met Martha, I began to look around me. At my office there were a number of women, but most were married while others were too young or simply unappealing. On top of that, although my plight was well known around the small town, I had not been inundated with offers from single women. Apparently, I wasn't very attractive to the opposite sex. 

 I gave myself a critical review one Saturday morning. I was slightly overweight -- perhaps fifteen pounds. My skin was a pasty white from being indoors far more than outside. My hair was a very conservative close cut. I wore horn-rimmed glasses to read. My clothes were ordinary in the extreme. I wore a dark suit to work each day with a white shirt and a nondescript tie. My shoes were polished black wingtip brogues.

On the weekend I went crazy. I wore tan or navy khakis, a checked shirt, usually buttoned to the neck, and either brown walking shoes or sneakers. My windbreaker was tan to match my personality. If you were going to define a boring, middle-aged man, I would be the poster boy.

My self-examination might have sent me back into my depression, but instead, I resolved to change. I had no other responsibility than to myself. I drove to the community recreation center and asked about their adult fitness program. The young girl at the counter smiled and handed me a brochure. The center offered an exercise room with a trained attendant as well as an on-going fitness program. I enrolled immediately.

My clothes were another problem. I really didn't know what I could change that would still be appropriate for my job and my age group. I had never really paid much attention to how I looked other than to follow my mother's admonition to be neat and clean. I would need some help with this next step.

I went to high school with Ernie Gent. We were pretty good friends, but after high school I went on to college in Pocatello and Ernie went to work at his dad's clothing store. I bought both my suits from Ernie, but in truth, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been in his store. When I left the aquatic center, I headed directly for Gent's Fine Clothes. Might as well get on with the program.

"Jesus Christ ... I don't believe it! A visit from Ozzie Hanswatter!" Ernie proclaimed loudly as he spotted me. There was no one else in the store besides his dad and the elderly woman who did the alterations.

"Nice to see you too, Ernie," I smiled.

"Don't tell me you need a new suit. Why it seems like only yesterday that I fitted you with that nice charcoal two-button," he laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. Ernie always did like to needle his friends. That's how you knew you were a friend.

"Yeah ... well ... actually I need some advice ... in private," I stammered.

The look on Ernie's face told me that he took my request seriously. 

"Let's go in the back," he said, turning toward the small office. He held his hand up to his father as they passed, clearly not about to say anything.

It was time for confession. I laid out my plan for personal reconstruction and Ernie listened with a slight smile and the occasional nod. I needed his help and he was more than willing.

"OK," he said seriously. "I know what you need, but I don't know what your budget is."

"Why don't we start at five hundred and see what it gets me," I suggested.

"Yeah ... well ... a couple of new suits for sure, some shirts and definitely some new ties. That's about it for five hundred," he concluded.

"Uhhhmmm ... let's get started then. I'll tell you when to quit," I grinned. I got a big smile in return.

"This is going to be fun," he said, shaking his head. "I get to remake Ozzie Hanswatter into a new-age man. Who'd have thunk?"

I spent a lot more than five hundred that afternoon. Closer to nine hundred. But when I walked out of Gent's, I had two stylish new suits, five button-down colored dress shirts, and five colorful silk ties. I also had four new sport shirts, two pair of dress slacks, new belts, socks and a wide brim fedora. Ernie said I needed to make a statement, and he talked me into the hat.

It was almost closing time when I walked into Farnsworth's Footwear. Ernie had called ahead to let them know I was coming and two hundred dollars later, I had new dress shoes, new loafers and a pair of Topsiders. 

The suits and slacks remained at Gent's for hemming and minor adjustments. I made sure Ernie understood I would be going on a fitness program and I might need adjustments. He was so happy to have me back as a customer that he offered the alterations for free. 

I'll admit I was apprehensive when I had tried on the new office attire. It was so radically different from my old style that I worried I might be laughed at.

I sucked it up when I went to work that first day with the full complement of new stuff, including the hat. When I walked into the foyer of the county offices, I got a double take from Barney, the security guard and a wide-eyed look of shock from Sharma, the receptionist. Neither, however, said a word.

By coffee break, the news was out. Someone had kidnapped Ozzie Hanswatter and replaced him with a look-alike. I had to smile. I looked over at the hat hanging on the coat rack. Ernie was a genius. Not only had I caught everyone's attention, I felt great. It really was a "new me." 

Three months later, I returned to Ernie Gent's store for some alterations to my pants. While the suit jackets still fit, my waistline had contracted by almost two inches and my weight was down thirteen pounds. 

"Ozzie, you look fantastic!" Ernie grinned as he marked the slacks and pants. "I'm just proud to have you wearing our clothes."

"Well, you gave me a hell of an incentive. Once I got started, I couldn't let all the free alterations go to waste. I'm glad I took your advice." 

"Yeah ... you sure the hell did! And the new hairstyle looks great too." Ernie was nothing if not enthusiastic and I remembered why I enjoyed being around him. 

He had married his high school sweetheart, Pearl Standfast, and she bore him three children, all boys. It dawned on me that Ernie and Pearl would be celebrating their twentieth anniversary next year. Where had the time gone? 

My change in attire and physique was noticed by a number of single women. I began to get the idea that several of them would be happy to date me. I felt it only polite to oblige them. Over the next years, I dated several different women and enjoyed each of them for their company. I had no intention of getting involved in a long-term relationship. My wounds from Martha were still somewhat raw, and I made sure the women I was with were aware I was not ready for anything permanent.

My life went on this way for the next four years. I was popular around the office because I was so upbeat and "cool." Or so they said. I saw Ernie regularly to make sure my wardrobe was complete and contemporary. He invited me and my current girlfriend to his house for a dinner quite regularly and I responded by taking Pearl and Ernie to dinner at one of our better restaurants on more than one occasion. 

My dating had led to a renewed sex life and I know that it contributed to my self-confidence. I wouldn't say I was developing a swagger, but I certainly wasn't shy around the ladies. What changed my lifestyle once again was the death of my uncle. The aftermath of the reading of the will turned my life upside-down.

-0-

When I finally slumped back in my chair, I looked up at the clock and saw that it was almost five thirty, Thursday morning. I had been working steadily since arriving back from Paramount at just after seven. I had carefully recorded the information coming out of the little radio in front of me. My neck was stiff and my eyes were tired. There was no way I would be capable of work today. I walked to the phone, punched in the main switchboard number, then the office extension of the Revenue Commissioner and left a message. I would not be in today and would let them know if I was fit for work on Friday.

My head was spinning. Not just from the fatigue which threatened to overwhelm me but from what I had learned. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that I had in my possession a device that was the key to Uncle Darby's riches. Uncle Darby was right. This was truly a remarkable little "radio" and I would have to guard it with my life. I would also have to keep its existence a total secret. From everyone!

I looked down at the pages and pages of notes I had made in the past seven hours. It had taken a while to determine the pattern, but eventually, I had figured it out. Earlier I had guessed I was listening to the future. But not only that, each individual station was at a different time in the future. Some as near as a few days from now while others were as far distant as years away. Only one question remained. How could I take advantage of the information?

It was a question for later. I was falling asleep just sitting in the kitchen chair. I stood and dragged myself to the bedroom. I had no recollection of getting undressed and into the bed, but when I awoke, I was under the covers and wearing only my jockey shorts. I looked across at the clock radio and saw that it was nearly two. Since it was broad daylight outside, I deduced that it was two in the afternoon and it was probably still Thursday. 

It took me twenty minutes to summon the energy to get out of bed and head for the shower. I gradually began to recall what I had learned the night before and I remembered that my first objective was to protect the little "radio" from unwanted discovery. I would have to find a secure place to keep it safe from intruders and accidents. 

I chose the fireproof vault I had invested in several years earlier in a moment of paranoia. It was built into the floor of my office closet and tied into the cement foundation. For the life of me I couldn't remember what the source of my fear was, but just the same, I was grateful for its existence as it met my needs.

As I looked at my inheritance, I saw the small felt-tip pen marks I had made on the case at the location of each of the stations I had been able to discover. I had logged each location and an estimate of what place in future time it represented. So far I was guessing, but I was reasonably confident that I wasn't radically wrong in my estimates. 

By five that afternoon, I realized I was too tired to concentrate on the radio and I phoned my boss to advise him I would be in the office at the usual time tomorrow. I had an interview with a prospective employee scheduled for ten Friday morning and I wanted to clear my desk completely before I left that afternoon. I wanted a totally free weekend to dedicate myself to solving more of the puzzling, mysterious device. 

I'm not sure how I made the leap, but I had accepted that this "radio" could give me tomorrow's news. Better yet, it would give me the news from much further ahead than tomorrow. It should have been a mind-bending experience, but for some reason, it wasn't. I think I had come to the conclusion that Uncle Darby knew it worked and therefore, why would I question it? 

I had already decided that I would need to test it in some tangible way. I would extract some information from it about the near future and test it against the actual results. The first thing that sprung to mind was baseball. Games were being played every day. It would be simple enough to compare the results on the "radio" to the results in the sports news on TV. 

I looked at my notes and turned on the radio. I had recorded the approximate location of the three day forecast station and carefully tuned it in. Shortly after six, the local Sunday sports weekend roundup came on the little device and I dutifully recorded the scores as they were reported. I knew the schedule and had listed each game, only needing to write in the numbers as the announcer read them out. It was just a case of waiting for Sunday evening to determine if I had the mechanism that might open the doorway to create wealth.

My appetite was making a forceful appearance by then and I decided to drive to the local Pizza Shack for beer and pizza. As I sat in the booth nursing my beer, I knew I was right; I had in my possession a radio that would tell the future and allow me to take advantage of the information. No one else on earth would have any such thing, I thought. Where did it come from and how did Uncle Darby come into possession of it? With his death, perhaps I would never know.

I went to bed at nine that night, exhausted and yet excited as well. I had trouble falling asleep as my mind was full of confusing thoughts about the little blue box and what it might mean to my future. Finally fatigue won out and I fell asleep.

I awoke at my usual time, seven am, and went through my usual routine. The extra hours of sleep yesterday and last night helped restore my usual fresh start to the workday. I had two objectives today. Participate in a "team interview" of a prospective employee for the County Clerk's Office and clear all the accumulated paperwork from my in-basket.

Some years earlier, the County had decided to use a new hiring procedure where at least three department managers of approximately equal status would individually interview a prospective candidate and then compare notes afterward. One of the interviewers would be the manager of the department for which the candidate was applying. It was a good system and forced us to carefully evaluate people and helped eliminate a variety of biases and oversights in the interviewing process. It worked very well. 

Today, I noted that the candidate was one Leticia Darling, a graduate of Eastern Washington State College in 1997. By my estimate, she would be approximately thirty-two to thirty-four years old. By law, her application would not require her age, but ultimately, when group insurance and medical applications were made, her date of birth would be "available." 

I had reviewed her C.V. and saw that she was well qualified for the position of Assistant to the County Clerk. I wondered why she had left an equivalent job in Blanchford. It would be the subject of questions by all three of us I assumed. 



Promptly at ten, Sharma announced Ms. Darling, and I walked out to the reception area to greet her. She was standing at the reception desk chatting with Sharma as I approached. She turned to me and smiled.

"Good morning. Mr. Hanswatter?" She had a voice that was both low-pitched and silky smooth. 

I stumbled for a moment. This was no ordinary candidate. She was extraordinary.

"Yes ... yes, that's me." I tried manfully not to gawk. 

She was dressed in conservative business attire. A white short-sleeved cotton blouse, a snug black wool skirt that fell a couple of inches below her knees and black low-heeled shoes. She wore no jewelry, not even earrings. A simple small analogue watch on her right wrist was the only adornment. She was gorgeous.

As I got closer, I noticed how tall she was. We were almost eye-to-eye. Her combed-back short blonde hair was neat and very attractive in what appeared to be natural waves. Later, I would realize that she wore no makeup. No lipstick, no eyeliner, no mascara, no nail polish -- nothing! Yes, she was gorgeous. Naturally beautiful. She needed no help at all. 

As I guided her to my office, I thought that this might be the most difficult interview I had ever conducted. I was already corrupted. I was prepared to recommend her without her even uttering a word or answering a question. I wondered if the other two interviewers would succumb to her this easily.

My usual technique was to engage in some small-talk for a few minutes to let the candidate relax a bit and feel less threatened in the strange surroundings. Today, the small-talk was for me! I needed to recover my wits and at least not act like a complete buffoon in front of her.

"Did anyone explain our interviewing procedure, Ms. Darling?" I began.

"Yes. I understand I will be interviewed by three different department heads today and then I will be notified next week if I am the successful candidate. I think it's a very clever idea, by the way," she smiled.

"Ahh ... well ... the idea is to eliminate biases and oversights. It's worked very well for us over the years."

"I'm sure it has," she smiled again.

It took me a couple of minutes and some background questions to get going with the interview properly, but finally, I managed to concentrate on the things that were important to the man would ultimately be hiring the candidate for his department. 

"What prompted you to leave Blanchford, Ms. Darling?" I asked directly, hoping she wasn't expecting this question quite then.

"I was fired. I was accused of sexual harassment by a junior employee. It was a false accusation and I was later able to prove that, but it was too late then. The County settled with me and I decided a change of scenery was necessary." She spoke without hesitation or emotion. It was as if she was reciting her educational background.

"That's quite a traumatic situation. Do you mind telling me how it came about?" I probed.

She looked at me squarely for several moments.

"A young man in the records department became ... infatuated with me. I had no idea, of course. He began stalking me and when I confronted him about it, he became quite angry when I told him I wasn't interested in him. I was quite abrupt with him, I realize, and that probably inflamed the situation. He filed a sexual harassment suit and without bothering to determine the facts, my supervisor fired me." 

I nodded. Fear of this type of problem wasn't unknown in our office and Ms. Darling's case was an object lesson in getting the facts first.

"That must have been very stressful for you," I suggested.

"Yes ... yes it was. I felt I was defenseless. Luckily, I was angry enough and determined enough that I consulted a lawyer and he took my case on a contingency basis. It took five months, but we proved to the County that I was innocent when the little shi... uhhhh man confessed.




Radio Days Pt. 01



"They were embarrassed of course and even more so when they had to pay compensation to me. They also provided me with a very glowing letter of recommendation, as you have probably seen. It's been over a year since I've worked and I wanted to get a fresh start somewhere. I hope this ... revelation ... won't harm my chances," she said, her voice clear and unequivocal.

"Of course not. You were innocent and a victim. What counts in our eyes is your ability to do the job. I hope you believe that," I said sincerely.

"I certainly want to. From what I've seen of Little River, it's a lovely little town with wonderful scenery. I could be very happy living here," she smiled.

"I'm pleased to hear that. It's important that our employees are comfortable in their surroundings as well." 

I carried on with the interview for another fifteen minutes, concentrating on her responsibilities in Blanchford and any special assignments or skills she might possess. At the end, I decided she was fully qualified for the job and could probably handle even more responsibility if she were ambitious. I would give her a positive review and hope that the other two supervisors felt the same.

"Where are you staying at present, Ms. Darling?" I asked as we walked out to the reception area.

"I have some friends in town and an aunt in Coeur d'Alene. I've left my cell number on my application if you wish to contact me," she said, her eyes turning to me as we reached the reception desk. "I hope to hear from you." 

Was there a message in that final comment? I asked Sharma to let the next interviewer know Ms. Darling was available. I turned back to her.

"It was a pleasure meeting you. I wish you good luck. I think you would be an asset to our office and the county." It was easy to smile at that point and I could see the sparkle in her eyes as I held her hand briefly. I walked back to my office wondering what could possibly make this woman anything less than the ideal candidate.

End of Part One:

Part Two: The Puzzle and the lady



Radio Days Pt. 02



My name is Ozzie Hanswatter and I am a forty one-year-old divorced male and the county assessor in my town of Little River, Idaho. As the last surviving Hanswatter, I had been summoned to a lawyer's office to hear the reading of my late Uncle Darby's will. Much to my surprise, he was very wealthy, but even more surprising was that he left it all to charity, gifting me only a small, blue radio. At least it seemed like a radio. However, when I turned it on, I discovered that it was something much more mystifying. 

My uncle had written me a letter suggesting that the "radio" was part of a puzzle that he was confident I could solve. As I began to examine the little unit, I was surprised that the broadcasts coming from it were very unusual. They appeared to be about fictional situations and imaginary characters. 

By the time I had returned home, I was determined to solve the puzzle my uncle had presented me and spent almost all night writing down what I heard from the various stations that I dialed in. It became evident that each station represented a different point in time; some as near as a few days while others were years in the future. 

I was obsessed with finding out all I could about the device and dedicated myself to unraveling this mystery over the weekend. Additionally, I had to revise my opinion. The reports I was hearing were about real people. The question was, were they real situations?

In the meantime I interviewed a candidate for an opening in the county clerk's office. Her name was Leticia Darling and she was a strikingly beautiful woman as well as a highly qualified candidate. I'm the first to admit I was smitten by her and hoped that she would be the one chosen for the position. I would love to get the opportunity to know her better.

Part 2: The Puzzle and the Lady

I had a hard time concentrating on clearing my desk that Friday afternoon. Ms. Darling had caught my attention and currently was filling my thoughts. She was so appealing that I started plotting my strategy to approach her even though she hadn't yet been hired. I was that confident of her success. 

When I arrived home from the office, I immediately began work on my weekend project: unraveling the mystery of the little blue "radio." I had made copious notes Wednesday night and Thursday. I intended to authenticate what I was hearing with two tests. One was to compare the Sunday baseball scores announced on the "radio" on Thursday to the actual results on the sports TV channel Sunday evening. It was the simplest test I could conceive and would be a starting point for my investigation.

My other test would be to take a number of the names I had been hearing on the various newscasts and Google them to see if I could confirm their existence. I began with the two baseball players mentioned on the very first broadcast, Tom Lumpkin and Mort Sidle. Sidle has been described as a "perennial all-star" and I suspected he might have been noticed much earlier.

My hunch was right. The Mort Sidle of 2007 was the Double A batting champion for the Fargo Flatlanders. At twenty-two, he was a can't-miss phenom drafted out of Dry Gulch State and was the property of the Kansas City Royals. So that checked out. 

I typed in Tom Lumpkin and got very little right away. It took several pages of hunting in the minor leagues, but I finally found a Tom Lumpkin, toiling away with the Bay City Rollers in the Single A Midwest League. He was a young fireballer, or so the little blurb on him indicated. He had been signed right out of high school in Arkansas and was only twenty years old. 

I was satisfied that the reports I had heard were about "real people" and not some fictional characters. It paralleled my information on Elijah Mellor. I was just getting their bios a bit before their fame.

I began to type in more names of individuals that I had never heard of who were featured on various news reports. I confined my search to events that I suspected were within ten to fifteen years in the future. All in all, I entered fourteen names and had nine "hits." I couldn't be sure that all the names I matched were indeed the same person, but if there was a commonality of occupation or interest, I suspected I was looking at their future.

I was now semi-confident that the information I was hearing was authentic, but was sometime in the future. While this was encouraging, it still didn't solve the puzzle. What was the purpose of this information and how could I use it to create wealth? 

I had already discarded gambling on the outcome of sports or other events. It was too slow, too heavily regulated and I would soon become well enough known that I couldn't take advantage of my knowledge. One big hit on Powerball might get me started, but what then?

I thought about the stock market. It would be a much slower process, but I could invest large sums without attracting a great deal of attention. Perhaps that was the method I could use. I was well familiar with compounding profit and I knew that once I got the ball rolling, I could accumulate a great deal of money in a relatively short period of time. Relatively short being five years or so.

I sat back and thought about Uncle Darby again. He was a complete mystery to me. He was kind, thoughtful, good-natured and generous. When my father died, he made sure my mother and I spent a nice vacation every year in Paramount, his home. 

Each summer, from the time I was ten until I left for college, I would join my mother and we would drive to Uncle Darby's home and spend a wonderful two weeks swimming in the nearby lake, hiking, fishing in the river, and generally just getting away from our everyday lives. I know it was just as important to Mom as it was to me.

There was never a hint that he was rich or that he possessed this magic "radio." Perhaps it all came to him later in life, but for now ... I was left to wonder. 

Mom didn't struggle to put food on the table or pay the mortgage on our house. Dad had a personal insurance policy plus the one that he had from his employer. When he died on the job, both insurance policies were in force and Mom was looked after financially. 

On the spur of the moment, I picked up the phone and called Felix Bindle, Uncle Darby's lawyer. I had a question for him. As luck would have it, he was in his office despite the fact that it was almost six on Friday afternoon.

"Mr. Bindle, its Ozzie Hanswatter calling."

"Yes Mr. Hanswatter. What can I do for you?" He didn't sound irritated that I had called him so late in the day.

"I was wondering what happened to Uncle Darby's home? I mean, was it sold or ... what?" 

"Well, actually, your uncle didn't own that home. He rented it from a corporation. They maintain the ownership," he said carefully.

"Really! What is the name of the corporation?" I asked.

"I'm not sure your uncle wanted that to be public ... but ... since you are the sole surviving heir, it's called the DMH Foundation." He sounded reluctant to give much information out.

"DMH? Those are his initials. Is it his business?" 

"Not exactly. You see, he set this foundation up to distribute ... uhhhh mmm ... funding to worthy causes."

"Who owns the foundation then?" I asked, now confused.

"No one. Or rather ... everyone. It's a public trust ... something like PBS, except it doesn't have fund drives. I suppose I should tell you that your uncle was much wealthier than you realized. Each year he gave hundreds of millions of dollars to worthy causes throughout the world. DMH was the vehicle to distribute that wealth. It is generating so much cash that it takes several staff just to manage the transactions. 

"Your uncle was a very generous and socially conscious man. He had created enormous earnings and yet was determined that it all go to worthy causes. The thirty-seven million that he had in his estate was ... petty cash."

I was dumbfounded. I had never heard of such nonsense. My uncle? Rich beyond reason? I was struggling to form my next thought.

"Mr. Hanswatter," Bindle interrupted quietly.

"Yes?"

"I think it would be wise if you didn't discuss this with anyone. As you can appreciate, when sums of this dimension are involved, it attracts unwanted attention from nefarious types. I wouldn't want you to be ... pressured ... or perhaps threatened by anyone over money that they could never obtain," he suggested.

I was quiet for a moment. It was a lot to digest. 

"I understand. Thank you for being so frank with me, Mr. Bindle. I may want to talk to you again about my uncle, but for now, I think I need to absorb what you have told me," I said slowly. 

"Of course. Feel free to call me at any time. Your uncle has maintained a permanent retainer with our firm. I am at your disposal."

"Thank you, sir. I will probably call you again when I've had time to grasp all this."

"Of course. I'll look forward to it. Good day, Mr. Hanswatter."

I stared at the phone as I hung up. 

A mystery on top of a puzzle on top of ... who knows what? This was reaching far beyond my comprehension. Enormous wealth in my uncle's hands and yet he lived a modest lifestyle with no hint of the power he held. 

There was only one common denominator that kept coming up in my thinking; the radio. Somehow, someway, my uncle had used it to produce all this wealth. That he used it for good deeds to help others was irrelevant. To do that, first he had to create the financial underpinning. How had he done it and how long had it taken? 

I felt overwhelmed. I didn't know where to start. Bindle had shared some sensitive information with me and now I wanted to know if he knew how Uncle Darby had made his fortune. His foundation was apparently self-sustaining, in spite of his death. That implied it was swimming in cash. How did it get to that state?

I heard my stomach growl and looking at the clock, I saw that I was an hour past my usual supper time. I stood from the chair and stretched, suddenly fatigued and not really interested in making a meal. I grabbed my car keys and left the house, heading for the nearby roadhouse; Dorsey Doe's Dance Hall. A little bit of Texas in northern Idaho.

A couple of beers and a burger later, I was feeling much better. The live band hadn't yet started but soon there would be the usual full house for a Friday night. I was sitting at the bar and scanning the crowd for familiar faces. 

I was resigned to a night of watching the other participants in this "meat market" and trying to decide which one I would have been happiest to pick up. There were several fine looking young ladies on display, but somehow, I wasn't interested. My telephone conversation with Bindle had thrown me right off my game and then ... then there was Ms. Darling.

I was staring into my beer when the young woman who was tending my end of the bar approached.

"You ever been stalked before?" she asked with a grin.

"Huh? Stalked? Uh ... no ... not that I know of," I laughed.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," she said with a smirk. She was looking over my shoulder and I instinctively turned to see who she was referring to.

"Which one?" I asked, unable to focus on any one person.

"The babe in the blue satin blouse. She's been boring holes in your back for ten minutes." 

I peered through the dimly lit, smoky haze and finally saw her. It took a couple of seconds before all the lights went on, but when they did, I was knocked silly. Sitting at a small table between two other attractive women was Leticia Darling, my wet dream interviewee from this morning.

I turned back to the bartender and mouthed, "I don't believe it."

"You know her?" she grinned again.

"Yeah ... sort of. I just met her this morning. I interviewed her for a job."

"Well ... looks like she wants that job real bad," she chuckled.

I nodded, wondering what I should do. Would it be improper to talk to her? I didn't think so. I had already filed my recommendation and had no further say in whether she would be hired or not. I blinked a couple of times, slid off the stool and walked unsteadily toward their table.

"Hello again," I said weakly as I approached her table. I spoke directly to Ms. Darling, barely acknowledging the other two.

"Hi ... I thought that was you," she smiled. "These are my friends from college, Julia Timely and Tommie Hashimoto," she added. There was no guessing which was which. 

I finally found my tongue and tried again. "I thought you'd be on your way to Coeur d'Alene," I began.

"Not tonight. I found the interviews very stressful and we had already planned to unwind. I'll probably head up there on Sunday." 

Her two classmates nodded and I looked at them a little more closely. All three were very attractive young women in their early thirties and would be the subject of many approaches as soon as the dancing started, if not before.

"Well, since you're here, would it be alright if I joined you?" I ventured, almost cringing in fear of rejection.

"Sure!" both Tommie and Julia chimed in together. Leticia was smiling, so I assumed she didn't disagree. 

"I'm Ozzie, by the way," I said, holding out my hand to Julia and Tommie. They took it gently and then I turned to Leticia. "May I call you Leticia?" I asked carefully.

"I'd rather you call me Tish. All my friends do," she smiled. 

I was done for. If she had me this morning, I was a complete captive tonight. "Tish it is, then," I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Do you come here often, Ozzie?" Tommie asked.

"No ... not really. I was a bit tired this afternoon and decided to goof off tonight. I'm working on a bit of a project right now," I explained.

"Oh ... is it work related?" Tish asked, apparently quite interested.

"No ... not at all. I ... uh ... well ... it's a puzzle I'm trying to unravel, related to my uncle's estate," I offered, wondering if I'd said too much.

"Oh ... excuse me ... I shouldn't have pried," Tish apologized.

"No ... no ... don't apologize. You're the first person ... people ... I've even mentioned it to."

"I love puzzles," Tish said enthusiastically. "It's so much fun to solve them. It makes me feel smart."

I was about to say something about her already having demonstrated her intelligence but chose to shut up instead. I was unashamedly gazing at the three attractive women and noticing that both Julia and Tommie both wore wedding rings while Tish did not. My heart added a few more BPM with that discovery. 

I also noticed that Tish had included some makeup and jewelry since our meeting this morning and her blouse was much more daringly open, revealing some cleavage. The outfit this morning was all business. Tonight's attire was much more provocative. All in all, she was a knockout babe and I wondered if there was a boyfriend around somewhere.

"Are you still with us, Ozzie?" Tommie laughed.

"Huh? Oh ... sorry ... lost my train of thought," I said weakly.

"I could tell," Julia laughed. "Why don't we get the preliminaries out of the way? Tommie and I are happily married and this is a 'girls night out' for us. Our single visitor here is in town hoping to get that job you interviewed her for this morning. Since we don't see any wedding ring on your finger, we're assuming you're single too?" she said boldly.

"Sheesh ... you don't fool around, do you?" I said, rolling my eyes upward. 

"Why bother. It saves a lot of wasted time and then we can get down to the reason for being here -- having fun." Julia's sly smile was confidently pasted on her face as she stared me down. 

"I won't argue that," I grinned. "The music is about to get going and having a conversation is going to get difficult." 

I had no sooner finished my comment than the band began to play. I smiled at Tish and stood. "Would you care to dance?"

"Sure," she said as she stood and walked around the table, taking my outstretched hand. 

The first song wasn't too fast and I was able to hold her as we moved to the music. Thank god for those dance lessons I took a couple of years ago. I took them as a way to meet women, but on this occasion it was a life-saver. Tish moved so effortlessly and smoothly with me that it was as though we had been rehearsing this for hours. 

"You dance very well," she said as her eyes wandered over my face. 

"I'd better. You are very good. I don't want to embarrass myself." That was the god's honest truth. The last thing I wanted to do was appear to be some socially inept klutz.

"Are you nervous, Mr. Hanswatter?" she smiled.

"Yes. I confess I am Ms. Darling."

"Whatever for? You're supposed to be 'goofing off' tonight, aren't you?"

"I ... uh ... find you very attractive and I guess I'm trying not to ... put you off," I admitted.

She laughed. "Relax. I'm the one that's supposed to be nervous."

"Why?" I was puzzled at her comment.

"Simple. I really do want that job and you have a big say in that decision." 

"Well, your fate is sealed, I afraid," I laughed. "I've already written and submitted my report. Too late to change it now." 

I couldn't for the life of me think of why she would be worried. I had interviewed every candidate but one and she was head-and-shoulders above any of the others. I couldn't imagine her not being chosen.

She looked worried as a frown crossed her face and I felt her stiffen.

"Now it's your turn to relax," I said with as upbeat a tone as I could. "I don't think you have a thing to worry about."

I felt the tension that had gripped her gradually loosen. 

"I hope not. I really do want that job. I would love to live here in Little River. Tommie and Julia are dear friends and that would make it so much easier to settle into a new place," she explained.

We danced the entire set then walked back to the table. Both her friends were up dancing with men and chatting with them as the band took a break.

"No boyfriend, Tish?" I asked carefully. Might as well find out now.

"No ... not lately. I've sworn off for a while," she stated cryptically.

"Oh ... bad experience?" Was I getting too personal?

"Something like that." She looked at me carefully for a moment before her eyes shifted out to the floor and her friends. "Looks like Tommie and Julia are doing fine," she noted.

"Yes ... and you?" I probed. 

She brought her eyes back to me and smiled. "Yes ... fine, but I'm thirsty. Would you please get me a glass of water," she asked.

"Nothing stronger ... perhaps a wine?" I offered.

"Not right now, thanks." She seemed quite comfortable as I headed for the bar.

I don't think I'd ever danced that much in my life. When we finally decided to call it a night it was after one in the morning and the time seemed to have flown by. I did manage a few dances with Tommie and Julia. I learned that Tommie's proper name was Tomika and that the men they were dancing with were neighbors whose wives were at a conference for the weekend. She assured me there was no "monkey business" going on.

My focus was on Tish and we seemed to have hit it off very well. I gave her my phone number and asked her to call me when she heard about the job. I told her that I would be more than surprised if she weren't chosen. That seemed to pump up her spirits. We spent a lot of time talking about ourselves. I let her do most of the talking.

She and her girl friends had plans for Saturday, so I wouldn't see Tish again until she returned. I was operating on the assumption that she was a "mortal lock" for the job. 

I slept well that night and didn't crawl out of bed until ten on Saturday morning. I put the coffee on and then headed for the shower. By the time I was finished, the coffee was ready and my mind was well into beginning my puzzle solving exercise.

I had picked up two important software programs when I took my night school courses; Firebird 2.0.4, a relational data base, and Excel, Microsoft's ubiquitous spread sheet program. I planned to use both of them to document what I was hearing on the radio. I purchased an inexpensive 16GB digital recorder which would allow me to transcribe what I was hearing and accurately load the information into both programs. In addition, I would use the usual search engines to look for background information on individuals and companies that were indentified in the stories.




Radio Days Pt. 02



When I finally took a break, it was two-thirty and I was hungry. I fixed myself a sandwich, opened a beer, and returned to my office. As I leaned back in my chair, my thoughts drifted back to last night and the happy time I had spent with Tish. She was in my thoughts constantly when I wasn't working on the project -- something new for me.

I'm still a bit shy. Despite the fact that I'd dated several women since I had made my lifestyle change four years ago, I was still a bit unsure of myself and how others would react to me. Once I am accepted, I can move forward more confidently, but until then, a piece of the old Ozzie was still there. That Tish had quickly accepted me was all the encouragement I needed.

When I was dancing with Julia, she told me that both she and Tommie thought I would be a "good match" for Tish. I had been a bit surprised when she said it, but I took it as encouragement and thanked her.

I resumed my research and finally called it a day just before six. I was amazed at how much I had accomplished. I know knew that each station on the dial had the same call letters; KTOM. The various dial locations identified what date in relative time the station was operating on. My documentation helped me prepare a schedule for when various programs would be broadcast. 

By continuing to listen to one particular "location," I was hearing news, some music, and commercials. At first, I hadn't paid any attention to the commercials, but eventually I realized they were a valuable source of information as well. I started to realize the enormity of the task I had chosen. Even more surprising was how Uncle Darby had managed without the use of computers. He must have done it all longhand. Amazing!

I prepared a light supper for myself and dropped down in front of the TV to get the afternoon baseball scores. 

I must had dozed off, the result of another beer, a late night, and several hours of concentrated effort on the project. I awoke about nine and went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. I wasn't in the mood for another night at some saloon. Besides, Tish wouldn't be there. 

I had been neglecting my exercise program the past few days, so I grabbed my workout gear, stuffed it into my sport-bag and headed for the gym. It was open late and wouldn't be very crowded on a Saturday night. 

As I peddled the stationary bike and stared out the window onto the road, I began to take stock of what had happened in the last four days. What struck me as odd was the notion that I had simply accepted that the "radio" I had inherited would broadcast the future. Surely that wasn't the reaction of a rational man. What had made it so acceptable and believable?

I was also accepting that the information I heard would come to pass exactly as it was described. That wasn't rational either. I had no proof. Tomorrow's baseball scores would be the only hard evidence I would get. Yet ... yet ... I was assuming that the scores would match the ones I had copied on Thursday. That was a big leap all by itself.

It's funny, the thoughts that drift by when you are involved in mindless exercise. I was thinking about my ex-wife Martha and her "fate." Should I warn her? If I did, would she believe me or think I had some ulterior motive. I didn't want to see Martha hurt if I could prevent it, but perhaps I might really mess up the future if I fiddled with it. I'd read and seen enough science fiction to know what might happen when you interrupted the "time-line." Even to me it seemed odd that I was thinking of her at this late date. She had treated me poorly, and yet I was worried about her. I remembered then that her demise was some years in the future and decided it could wait. 

I finished my twenty minute ride and headed for the pool. Twenty laps at moderate speed would finish my session and leave me with that satisfied feeling of having accomplished something useful. I was proud of my new body and I was dedicated to maintaining my more modern, fit image. I was confident it would be important in my quest to woo Ms. Darling.

Sunday afternoon I stopped work on the project just before five and took my legal pad and recorder to the living room. I waited for the weekend wrap-up on the baseball games with my list of "expected" scores in front of me. As the two announcers began to laboriously grind through the endless number of games that day, I knew within a minute that I had the results in front of me. Results I had transcribed three days earlier!

Test two complete. The first test had revealed the source of some of the unknown people and places that I had noted from early broadcasts. I was now satisfied that I had in my possession a device that would give me accurate information about the future. 

There remained another question however. One I hadn't given much thought to. Could I alter the future? That question came to me when I was thinking of Martha last night. What if I knew someone was going to die in an auto accident? Could I prevent it? What would happen if I did? This would be a much trickier question to answer.

Monday dawned cloudy and drizzly, decidedly uncommon weather for August. I arrived at work at my usual time and began my normal workday routine. I took a coffee break just before ten and wandered down to the City Clerk's office to see if I was right about the decision to hire Tish. 

"Good morning, Dickie," I saluted. Richard Bird was the decision-maker of the hiring committee.

"Hi Oz, how's it going?" he said without looking up. Dickie was constantly buried in paper and his desk was an unmitigated disaster. Amazingly, he was able to locate a specific item without a moment's hesitation. No one dared disturb Dickie's desk.

"Make a decision on the assistant's hiring yet?" I asked as casually as I could.

He looked up at me and grinned. I was apparently not fooling him for a moment.

"What's it worth to you to find out?" he grinned, leaning back in his chair.

"A fresh coffee?" I shrugged, trying to maintain my nonchalance.

"Well ... I can say we had several good candidates and the decision was quite difficult. I lost a lot of sleep trying to find just the right person for the job, you know." Dickie tried manfully to deliver this with a straight face. It was bullshit and I knew it, and he knew I knew it. I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing.

"OK, OK ... your choice was the unanimous choice of all of us. She was by far the best candidate. Better than I expected we would find, to be truthful." He wasn't kidding now.

"Good ... I'm glad. I think she's probably capable of more than being just an assistant, given time to learn the job," I suggested.

"I think so too. Anyway, she was very happy when I called her this morning. She really wanted this job, so we've made a good choice," Dickie concluded.

"Yeah. I agree. She will brighten up this office, but you'd better warn her about your desk. When does she start?" I asked.

"She needs to move her things from Blanchford, but she has a place to stay temporarily with one of her friends. She said she'd be ready to start next Monday."

Dickie and I shared some small talk and office gossip while we finished our coffees and then I returned to my office with a very big smile on my face. When I arrived, my message light was flashing and I pushed the button after I retrieved a pencil and pad.

"Oh. Hi Ozzie. It's Tish Darling. I got the job ... just like you said I would. I'm really pleased and I can't wait to start. I promised I would let you know. Sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you, but I'm excited about moving. I'll be there this weekend and I'm going to be staying with Julia and her husband until I can find a place of my own." She had rattled this all off in a matter of seconds in her excitement. 

I smiled at her enthusiasm and noted the phone number she had called from. Like all government offices, all incoming calls were logged and the source recorded. I punched in the number and waited through three rings before it was picked up.

"Hello?" It was Tish and she sounded out of breath.

"Hi ... it's Ozzie. Congratulations," I said brightly.

"Oh ... Ozzie, thanks ... I'm really, really pleased," she gasped.

"Where have you been to be out of breath," I laughed.

"I was downstairs, packing things away ... getting ready to move."

"Of course. I should have realized that. I'm sorry if I had you running to the phone in the middle of that," I said sincerely.

"No ... it's OK. Thanks for calling back. I hate leaving messages. They sound so impersonal."

"Well, I'm pleased I was right about you being the best candidate. I'm really looking forward to having you here in our office. I think you're going to enjoy the job and Dickie is a great guy to work for."

"Dickie?"

"Yeah ... our pet name for your new boss, Mr. Richard Bird," I laughed again.

"Oh ... I wish you hadn't told me that," she said in return. "I'm likely to call him that when I'm not thinking."

"Don't worry about it. He'll tell you himself, I'm sure. Even his wife thinks it's a clever name."

There was a pause in the conversation and I took advantage of it.

"Say ... Tish ... I wondered, perhaps we can get together on Saturday evening. I thought maybe dinner and ... dancing?" It was a pretty tentative proposal.

"Uhhhh ... yes .... I guess so. Are you going to be at that roadhouse again on Friday night?" she asked carefully.

"I can be. Are you?"

"Yes ... the girls and their husbands are celebrating my new job, so we thought we'd go there. It would be fun if you could be my guest," she said. There was a note of caution in her voice.

"You can count on it. I'll be there," I said quickly.

"Great ... and ... thank you again," she concluded happily.

After we hung up, I pondered just what was happening between us. Whatever it was, it was moving quickly and I had better be prepared to keep pace. I continued to wear a smile for the rest of the week.

I decided to discipline myself in my new hobby and dedicate just two hours per evening to the project. I had collected an enormous amount of information and yet I wasn't really any closer to solving the mystery of my Uncle's wealth. I knew what was going to happen in the future, but I hadn't really come up with a solid idea on how to take advantage of it that would produce the incredible results that Uncle Darby had created. 

I was fairly confident I could generate several million dollars and that would get me started, but then what? I kept coming back to Mr. Felix Bindle and what he might know that he would share with me. If that failed I would fall back on Plan B; win a lottery prize that would provide me with seed money for my assault on the future.

I was in a great mood when Friday rolled around. I was caught up at work, which wasn't unusual. More importantly, I had a date with a beautiful woman that evening. Even though we would be in the company of two other couples, I got the sense that Tish's friends were on my side. They were in matchmaker mode. It wouldn't take much of a push for me to fall.

I strolled into Dorsey's just after seven and saw the two couples with Tish at a large booth along the side. I walked over and introduced myself to the men. I thought Kaz Hashimoto looked familiar and he quickly told me why. He owned the local dry cleaning establishment and I had seen him there when I took my suits and shirts in. Gil Timely gave me a hearty welcome as well.

We ordered our meals and the table talk was friendly and spirited. I could tell the Timelys and the Hashimotos were good friends, but I certainly wasn't left out of the conversation. We chatted about the town politics and the economy in general as we worked our way through the meal. All the while, I was keeping Tish involved in the conversation. She was the reason I was there.

We had barely finished our meal when the band began and while our hosts were willing to sit out the first few to digest their meal, Tish and I were up almost right away. I had been anticipating holding her in my arms again and I was delighted that she was just as happy to be with me too. 

It was another night like the previous Friday and both of us lost track of time. I caught Julia and Tommie exchanging knowing glances now and then, but I wasn't deterred. I had my arms around a lovely blonde and I was in high spirits as we celebrated her new job. 

The night ended too soon as far as I was concerned. We had enjoyed ourselves and I thanked our hosts for including me and promised I would repay their kindness. In the meantime, in one of the few opportunities I had to talk to Tish in private, we made a date for the next evening. It would be a lot different in atmosphere, but I hoped we would be just as compatible tomorrow as we were tonight.

Tish left with the Timleys and I drove home in what I could only describe as a state of euphoria. I was feeling very good about our budding relationship. 

Saturday, I spent a bit more time on the project, but in truth, I wasn't really focusing on it the way I had been. My thoughts were filled with Tish and that was a distraction. Besides, I had collected enough data to fill a book, but I still wasn't any closer to resolving the mystery surrounding my uncle's wealth. 

I arrived at the Timely home just before seven that evening and walked to the front door. It was Julia who met me there and invited me in.

"You're right on time, Ozzie. She'll be just a couple of minutes," she said with a nice smile. "I'm really glad you two are getting along so well. She needs someone ... steady and dependable like you."

"Oh good. I'm steady and dependable," I said, rolling my eyes upward. "That's a real girl-getter."

Julie quickly changed to a serious look and her voice dropped to something slightly above a whisper. "It's what she needs right now, Oz. She's had a rough time lately and she doesn't need another problem-child to deal with. Go easy on her, hear me?"

I couldn't mistake the concern and seriousness of her message. I nodded my head in understanding. "Thanks for the heads-up," I offered.

Julia's smile returned as she turned to see Gil approaching from the kitchen. "Hi Ozzie," was his genuinely friendly welcome. "Where are you two off to tonight?"

"Evening Gil. Thought we'd try Domenicas. It's always reliable and a bit quieter than Dorsey's," I chuckled. "I hear they've got a new singer who's really good."

At that moment, Tish walked into the living room and I nearly did a classic double-take. She was wearing a pale green satin dress that flattered every inch of her. Revealing in front and back, a hem well above her knees and a snug wrap around her hips. I'm not sure I didn't gasp.

"Wow ... Tish ... you look ... fantastic!" I finally managed.

She flashed her thousand watt smile. "Thank you." 

I managed not to make a total fool of myself as we walked to my car, hand-in-hand. We made some small talk on our way to the restaurant and I gradually began to relax. I couldn't help stealing the odd glance at this lovely vision. If Tish noticed, she didn't say anything.

The meal was excellent, just as I expected. We were sharing a bottle of Italian Pino Grigio and trading stories about our past. We were not, however, delving into our former personal relationships. I talked about my youth and the loss of first my father and then my mother. She talked about her parents, both still alive and living in Spokane.

As our waiter cleared away our plates I sat back and admired the woman sitting across from me. I was unaccustomed to being with someone quite as beautiful as Tish and I wondered if we had a future together. I hoped so. She was not just lovely to look at, but her wit and intelligence and quiet nature made it a pleasure to be with her.

Somehow, we hadn't run out of things to talk about and our conversation was moving along nicely when she surprised me with a question.

"How's your puzzle-solving coming along," she asked quite innocently.

"Uh ... fine ... uhhhh ... well ... uhhhh ... I'm sort of stalled right now," I said without thinking.

"Can you tell me about it?" she asked.

I sat for a moment without responding. Felix Bindle's admonition about a tight lip notwithstanding, I was very tempted to spill the whole story out to Tish right there and then. 

"Uhhhmmm ... I'm not sure you'd understand ... I mean ... it's complicated," I stammered.

"Most puzzles are," she smiled. How the hell could I resist that smile? I still hadn't developed a plausible story without frightening her or letting her think I was some weirdo with a space-alien fixation.

"Tish ... I ... uhhhh ... it's hard to explain. I'd really rather not just yet," I said in a defeated voice.

She sat there, just smiling at me, enjoying my discomfort I thought. "Come on, Ozzie. Spit it out." She was almost laughing. I couldn't figure out what was so funny. My first thought was that she would find my story laughable, if not ridiculous and that was the last thing I wanted to have happen. I needed to stall for now until I had a better handle on how I could explain what was going on. In addition, it was way too early in our relationship for me to pop this one on her. I wanted a much more time to get to know her and more about her past before I tried to explain the inexplicable.

"Uhhhmmm ... look, Tish ... can we take a rain check on that. I'll be happy to tell you about it when I've got it clear in my own mind. Right now, it's something I feel I have to work out on my own," I said with what I hoped was a reassuring tone. Despite Bindle's warning, it didn't occur to me that she would be a threat. It just didn't seem to be her nature.

"Do you promise?" she asked, watching me with a look of amusement.

"Well ... of course. I promise." I was hoping that I wouldn't be called on that promise any time soon.

She looked at me with a bemused expression and a wrinkled brow. I didn't know what to make of her response until she spoke.

"Ozzie, are you pulling my leg?" she asked seriously.

"No ... I wish it were that simple. I mean ... I wish I could explain it better than I have." I watched her face for any hint that she was going to bolt, but that wasn't what I saw. 

She nodded her agreement. 

I desperately needed to change the subject.

"Tomorrow. Why don't we go sightseeing? I'll pick you up and we can spend the afternoon together. I can show you ...," I paused.

"I'm sorry, Tish ... am I rushing you? I don't mean to, but ...."

She was smiling slightly and not looking at me. I had pushed her too quickly. She could probably see the flush on my face from that realization. 

"Ozzie, we hardly know each other. We need some time," she said with a worried look.

"I know ... I know," a slight smile on my face. I got a very nice one in return.

"I'm flattered. Thank you. Let's just take it slowly, OK?" 

I didn't get the feeling that she was pushing me away, just giving herself some space and time. I think I must have breathed a sigh of relief.

"What should we do now?" she asked.

"Well, there's a young lady who is about to entertain us with some nice contemporary jazz and there's a dance floor near the band and the night is still young," I grinned.

"And I thought you were shy," she laughed.

"I am ... or at least I am until I feel comfortable around the person I'm with."

"This is all happening very fast, Ozzie." She was serious. She was concerned.

"I was thinking that very same thought not long ago. On the other hand, I don't hear any voices inside me telling me to slow down. That's usually a good sign. What about you?"

"No ... no voices," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't think it was possible for me to ... I mean ... it's about trusting someone, isn't it?" 

"Yeah ... that's exactly it ... trusting someone," I said as I rose and held my hand out to her. In seconds we were on the dance floor in each other's arms and I was back on my own personal cloud-nine. 




Radio Days Pt. 02



The new singer was terrific. Smooth and mellow with a deep sexy voice, she exuded the perfect atmosphere for romance. Even her quicker numbers were presented in a silky fashion and Tish and I were seldom off the dance floor.

When I took her back to Julia and Gil's house, I was back in that euphoric state she had created the evening before. As we stood before the door, she turned to me and I found the nerve to lean forward and just brush her lips with mine. Nothing too adventuresome for a first kiss.

She looked a bit startled at first, then with a faint smile, she leaned toward me and returned the kiss. No parted lips, no tongue, just a lovely, soft brush of her lovely full lips against mine.

"What about tomorrow?" I asked, almost in a whisper.

"Anytime after ten," she softly replied.

"How about one second after ten?" I tried, getting braver.

She smiled, turned and walked inside. She turned back before closing the door, smiled at me again and mouthed "good night." Kapow! I was done for.

When I first met Martha, my ex-wife, I remember how slow developing our courtship was. We were both young and I was just getting myself established at the County Office. I guess I could describe our relationship as comfortable rather than passionate. I had little experience with women and so it didn't strike me as unusual or surprising. We got along well and after a while, it just seemed inevitable that we would get married. 

Leticia Darling, however, was evoking feelings in me that I didn't know I possessed. I was now fantasizing about her and where our liaison might lead. To be fair to Martha, she couldn't hold a candle to Tish when it came to looks. All Tish had to do was smile and I was off to the races. Where Marsha produced a feeling of comfort, Tish produced a feeling of excitement. It just wasn't a fair fight.

As you might expect, I was at the Timely's door at precisely ten the next morning. It was another of those great late-August days that are common in this part of the world and I knew it would be quite warm by early afternoon. Tish was dressed in a very nice yellow tank top and a pair of snug white shorts. She looked gorgeous, but then, she would look gorgeous in a gunny sack. 

"Have you had breakfast?" I asked.

"Yes ... we all had breakfast earlier. Julia and her family left for church a few minutes ago. I told them I didn't know when I'd be back," she noted, looking at me without expression.

I smiled to myself. This was just getting better and better.

"Good. I though we'd go up to Rocky Point on Lake Pend Oreille and have a late lunch. It's a beautiful day and the scenery there is fantastic." I had hoped she would agree as she nodded and smiled.

We didn't talk much on the way up to the lake. Tish seemed lost in thought. Perhaps I had upset her in my rush to get to know her better. 

We arrived at the little town and Tish was almost gasping at the scenery. I had brought my camera and I wanted some pictures of us together, but especially of Tish. I intended to print an 8 X 10 of the best one and frame it for my bedroom. 

We wandered through the little town, stopping at the many gift and craft shops. It might have been a logging and mill town in its past, but today it was a vacation and tourist spot in a beautiful setting. I could see the ski facilities on the mountainside to the west and it meant that this was a year-around resort.

Once again, without noticing, we were holding hands as we strolled along. I was breathing a bit easier now, as Tish was much more energized as she wandered into many of the shops to browse. I could see the smiles and almost read her thoughts as she viewed all manner of trinkets and crafts. She bought a pair of locally made jade earrings and quickly exchanged the ones she was wearing for her new purchase. They looked great I thought, and said so. That got me another of her brilliant smiles. 

We stopped at a funky little café and had a light lunch on the patio, enjoying the sunshine. I had taken a few pictures of Tish, but as she sat across from me at the little table, I pulled out my camera and took three or four of her. She seemed surprised and a frown crossed her face for a moment.

"You don't want to take my picture," she said quietly.

"Oh yes I do," I smiled. "Anytime I'm with a beautiful woman, I want my picture take with her so I can prove it isn't a dream." It sounded corny, I know, but I was in a great mood and enjoying every minute with Tish.

At that point, the waitress reappeared with our bill.

"Excuse me, miss. Would you mind taking a picture of us together?" I asked.

"Of course," she smiled. Tish, on the other hand, looked decidedly uncomfortable, but said nothing.

The young girl took two shots of us and handed me back my camera. I thanked her and turned to Tish. She looked ... worried? I didn't understand her reaction, but I wasn't about to spoil the day with the wrong question at the wrong time. I did wonder, though. Why was she reluctant to have her picture taken? Another puzzle?

End of Part Two

Next: Part Three: All is revealed?



Radio Days Pt. 03



Hello, it's me again, Ozzie Hanswatter. If you've been following my story, you know I've inherited what appeared to be an ordinary transistor radio. It turned out to be anything but ordinary. I discovered that it broadcast the future. In fact it broadcast several time points in the future, from a few days ahead to several years ahead.

My uncle left this radio to me, telling me it was a puzzle that he thought I could solve. I'm not so sure. Oh yes, I've been able to document each of the time points and how to find them. I've also been able to authenticate the information the little device broadcasts ... I think. So, is that the puzzle? Or is there something else?

In the meantime, I've met the girl of my dreams. I mean it! Leticia "Tish" Darling is something special and I'm determined to make her mine. Perhaps I'm putting too much pressure on her, but I find I want to be with her constantly. 

We went for a nice drive upstate to the town of Rocky Point and Tish appeared to be having a great time until I asked someone to take our picture. She seemed nervous about that and I thought it was odd. 

Radio Days: Solving the Puzzle

We left the little café and continued our stroll around the town. Gradually, the frown and worried look on Tish disappeared and her happy expression returned. We found a lookout spot near the lake and we sat down to just enjoy the scenery for a few moments. I snapped a couple of pictures on my digital camera, but thought better of taking any more of Tish. It seemed to make her uncomfortable and I didn't want to ruin the mood.

It was Tish who broke the silence.

"Ozzie, tell me about yourself. I mean, the things we haven't talked about," she said unexpectedly. 

Her request caught me by surprise.

"Uhhhmmm ... I'm not sure what you want to know," I said carefully.

"You were married ... for ten years I hear," she said straightforwardly.

"Yes ... yes I was. How did you know?"

"Julia told me. She said your wife left you. She said she took up with a guy with a questionable background." She knew more than I expected.

"It seems my private life isn't so private," I mused. "How does Julia know that?"

"She thinks she met the guy at her real estate office. She said he was asking a lot of questions that weren't about buying property. She didn't like him and didn't spend much time with him. Later she saw him with your wife and they seemed pretty ... buddy-buddy."

I thought about what she was telling me. Martha worked as an assistant at a different real estate office, but I wasn't surprised that Julia would know her, or about her. 

"Yeah, well ... she left me for this guy ... Burk Dunkley. She said I wasn't exciting enough and she wanted more out of life, so ... she left," I shrugged.

"That must have hurt," Tish said sympathetically. 

"Yeah ... for a while. I guess I got over it and at the same time, I knew that she was right. I wasn't much of a 'catch.' That's when I decided I had to change ... you know?"

"You did a great job of it," she smiled. "I think your ex-wife made a very bad decision. You are a very handsome man and a very nice one as well."

I was caught off-guard. She was complimenting me and I felt it was genuine. I didn't get any sense that she was trying to "butter me up." 

"Thanks, but ... you really don't know that much about me." 

"I know enough. I can tell. I've seen the other side of the coin," she said cryptically.

"Julia hinted to me that you'd had a ... hard time lately. I guess you said something about that when you told me you didn't have a boyfriend." I was reminding her of her comment that first Friday night at Dorsey's. 

"I've been having some personal problems these past few years," she admitted. "I was always a bit shy and not very popular when I was in high school. It was later, when I was in college that things changed. I became more accepted and a lot of guys wanted to date me. I was flattered and happy that I had become more ... popular. I just wasn't very picky about who I went out with.

"I learned the hard way. I had lots of short-term boyfriends and they ... took advantage of my inexperience. By the end of my sophomore year, I had a reputation ... not a good one either. It was the start of my junior year that I met Julia and Tommie. They took me under their wings and got me straightened out. I owe them a lot." 

She looked a bit forlorn after her recounting of her youthful experiences. I felt sorry for her, but I knew there must be more.

"It's good to have friends like that," I said. "You're very lucky."

"Yes ... I am ... very lucky," she agreed. "But when I graduated and we split up, I made another mistake." She paused, looked down at her hands and then back at me. "Let's not go there right now, OK?"

I nodded. I didn't want to push her and I didn't want to upset her. I felt for her. She truly was vulnerable and not very worldly. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her it was all right and that she could trust me, but I wondered if she would believe that. I tentatively reached out and held her hands.

She looked at me and smiled. I didn't detect any nervousness or reluctance. I just wanted her to learn to trust me. If she could find a way to open up, it might be cathartic. I knew then just how careful I would have to be to gain her complete confidence. 

"I'm glad it was here that you decided to make a new start." I was smiling. 

She smiled back. "I'm being careful, Ozzie. I want to trust you, but ... I'm being careful."

I was still holding her hands. "I know, Tish. I don't blame you. I understand. Why don't we head back to Little River," I smiled.

"Yeah ... let's," she smiled back.

We did a lot of talking about our likes and dislikes that afternoon, but in the end, I really didn't know any more about her past problems. I looked at my watch as we arrived back in town and saw it was almost six.

"Tish ... let's go out for dinner," I suggested as we pulled into my driveway. 

"No ... Ozzie ... let me make something. I'd just as soon stay here and relax for a while. We can talk without worrying about anyone overhearing us," she said with surprising candor.

"OK ... let's look in the fridge and see what I have," I agreed.

We ended up with macaroni and cheese, a tossed salad and shared a bottle of white wine. It was perfect! When we'd cleaned up the dishes and poured the last of the wine, Trish dried her hands on the towel I was using and then surprised me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me the nicest long kiss I could ever remember. It must have been the mac and cheese.

"That was nice," I said softly. "We should do the dishes more often."

"Don't go getting any ideas, Mr. Hanswatter," she warned. She smiled when she said that and I knew we were OK.

"Well then, Ms. Darling, how would you like to spend the evening?"

"Why don't you put on some nice music and we can sit on the sofa."

I didn't need a kick in the backside to know what to do. I tuned in my favorite seduction fm radio station and sure enough, the music was just right. I moved to the sofa and sat close to her, my hand moving to hers and closing over it. She snuggled up close to me and closed her eyes as the softly-played piano sounds filled in the background. We didn't need to say a word. It was wonderful.

I suppose we were there for several minutes before I stirred and took the opportunity to put my arm around Tish. If she was asleep, as I thought she might be, she was comfortable and moved even closer into me. The scent of her delicate perfume was the intoxicant that caused my male libido to stir. I began to imagine what it would be like to make love to this beautiful woman.

"I feel safe here," she murmured.

"Good. I won't tell you what I feel," I chuckled.

She gave me a light punch in the shoulder as a reply.

"Safe is good, Ozzie. I need safe," she said quietly, looking up at me.

"Can you tell me why? You know I'll do anything for you, don't you?" I hoped she would accept that I was being truthful. I really would do almost anything for her.

"It's a bad story, Ozzie. Maybe ... maybe when you can tell me about the puzzle, I can tell you about what I mean ... OK?" She looked up at me again with a pleading expression. "It isn't very nice and I don't want to spoil this evening for us."

"You tell me when you want to tell me, Tish. You know it won't go any further," I promised.

"Thanks," she said as her head dropped to my shoulder and I heard a sigh of contentment. 

I don't think I could have felt any more emotional about someone than I did at that moment. I was falling in love with a woman I hardly knew and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. On the other hand, there wasn't a damn thing I wanted to do about it except let her know. Somewhere along the line, I was going to have to tell her.

Shortly after nine, I drove Tish back to the Timely's house and walked her to the front door. We kissed and this time she put more into it than before. It seemed pretty intense to me, but I was already a goner anyway, so how would I know? We parted and said we would see each other tomorrow in the lunchroom and I headed home after she closed the door.

I didn't sleep very well that night. Mostly because of Tish and my feelings about her, but also because I was very unfocused lately. I could do my job without problem, but my mind was constantly wandering between thoughts of Tish and my inability to resolve my uncle's puzzling bequest. The little "radio" had become more of a challenge than I expected and it was only with unusual determination that I didn't share my secret with my new lady.

Only two people in the world knew about the little device and I was one of them. At least, that's what I assumed. I was sure that Felix Bindle knew about it. It would be odd that he did not, considering the information he shared about the foundation my uncle had created. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to talk to Mr. Bindle once more and see what else I could learn. I was missing something and I needed his help.

When I arrived at work Monday morning, I looked over my schedule for the next two weeks and then picked up the phone. 

"Bindle and Snipe," the aging receptionist answered.

"Good morning. It's Ozzie Hanswatter calling. May I speak with Mr. Bindle, please," I asked in my most polite voice.

"Of course Mr. Hanswatter. I'll get him right away," she said brightly.

Now that was a change from the first encounter. I didn't have to wait long for Felix Bindle to pick up the phone.

"Good morning, Mr. Hanswatter. How may I help you," he answered in a pleasant tone.

"Mr. Bindle, I'd like to make an appointment with you to discuss my ... inheritance," I began.

"Yes, I rather expected your call. When would it be convenient?" he asked.

Convenient? He was asking me when it would be convenient?

"Ahmmm ... I was hoping for next week, say ... Thursday?" I offered hopefully.

"Yes, of course. That will be fine. Morning or afternoon?"

"Morning, please. I'd like to get back to Little River that evening," I explained.

"Understood. Why don't we schedule for eight am and then see how it goes," he suggested.

"Yes ... yes ... that will be fine," I said, slightly bewildered. This was not the response I was expecting, but I was pleased that I had so little trouble getting to see him. "Thank you, Mr. Bindle. I'll see you next Thursday morning at eight," I confirmed.

"I'll look forward to it," he replied and we rang off. I sat at my desk looking at the telephone almost in disbelief. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this type of reception. It was a complete turnaround from my normal dealings with lawyers. Suddenly, I seemed to be welcomed. I gave my head a shake and went back to my work.

At coffee, I wandered down the hall to my boss, Milo Selwind's office, and arranged two vacation days for the following week. I explained that I was still working on my uncle's estate and that seemed to satisfy him.

I saw Tish at lunch and explained that I would be away for a couple of days next week as I travelled to Paramount to meet with my uncle's lawyer. I didn't offer any details, but I could see the look of interest in her eyes and her slight smile. I suspected she was determined to find out more about "the puzzle," but I wasn't offering anything yet. 

The balance of the week was spent working at compiling the information I had obtained in my study of the little radio and putting it in a form that I could access readily on a pair of CD's. I put the CD's in my safe and then began to think about the questions I wanted to ask Felix Bindle. 

I was beginning to think that Mr. Bindle knew more about my "radio" than he let on. My phone call on Monday and his response to my request left me feeling that he was almost anticipating my request for a meeting. In fact, he had said he "rather expected my call." I was curious as to why.

The following weekend was spent with Tish again. We had become quite close in the past three weeks. I marvelled at my good fortune and vowed to enjoy every minute of my time with her. I wanted to move our relationship along to something more intimate, but I was being overly cautious because of Julia's warning and Tish's comments the previous weekend. I reminded myself regularly not to push too hard. Be patient!

I was struggling with the idea of telling her about my inheritance, but until I spoke with Felix Bindle, I decided to say nothing. I really wanted to get some idea of what I was supposed to accomplish. Over the past few days, some disturbing ideas had floated around in my head.

One was the consequence of changing the future. If I were to use my advance knowledge to achieve a certain result, would that alter the future and thus cause events to occur that should never have occurred?

I remembered a lesson in college about what might happen if a seemingly insignificant event happened that was not "destined" to happen. Perhaps as small as the movement of a rock on a hillside.

There was great debate in class over this question with the students pretty much split down the middle between assuming no effect and assuming all sorts of consequences if the rock were to roll down the hill. I remember it got pretty heated and then the class ended and the whole thing was pretty much reduced to theoretical discussions over a beer at the Student Union Pub.

So far, I had not taken any advantage of the device and I wondered why. Or maybe the question was; why not? I was reluctant to test the little radio in practical or profitable terms. Why? I couldn't think of a good reason, but still, I was waiting for something. Permission? This whole business was producing a feeling of discomfort.

I was restless until Wednesday came along when I set off in my car for Paramount. I took it easy, knowing tomorrow would be a long day and I wouldn't be home until quite late in the evening. I had prepared my list of questions for Felix Bindle and I thought I was as prepared as I could be under the circumstances, but I wasn't sure I knew all the questions I should ask.

After a restless night's sleep in the motel, I arrived in Felix Bindle's office promptly at eight the next morning. His secretary actually smiled when I entered.

"Good morning, Mr. Hanswatter. Right on time. I'll tell Mr. Bindle," she said brightly as she entered the lawyer's private office. 

She wasn't gone more than fifteen seconds when she reappeared, holding the door open for me.

"He'll see you now," she smiled. Another smile! This was getting spooky.

"Good Morning, Mr. Hanswatter, nice to see you again," Bindle said, sounding sincere.

"Good Morning, Mr. Bindle. Thank you for the appointment," I replied.

He offered coffee and I accepted as he poured from the sideboard behind his chair. We exchanged small talk about the weather and the drive to Paramount before getting down to business.

"Well, Mr. Hanswatter, what can I do for you?" he said with what I thought was a knowing smile.

"Mr. Bindle, I'm wondering just how much you know about my uncle's affairs?" I asked bluntly.

Felix Bindle sat immobile, watching me, but not appearing uncomfortable or upset.

After a few moments, he began. "I was his advisor and confidant in all things pertaining to DMH," he admitted. "As such, I knew quite a lot about ... well ... quite a lot."

"Did you know what was in the small carton that was my bequest?" I asked directly.

"Yes." It was the simplest of responses with nothing more forthcoming.

"Do you know what it does?"

"Yes, Mr. Hanswatter, I do."

I pressed on.

"I've spent quite a bit of time documenting the information I've been getting from the little radio and I am at a loss to understand just how my uncle might have used it to create the massive wealth that you have outlined in DMH," I stated in a straightforward fashion.

"He didn't."

This was becoming frustrating if not infuriating.

"Really, Mr. Bindle, you clearly know more than you are telling me. I'm looking for answers. Will you provide them?"

"No." 

That was it? Just "No!" Nothing else? No explanation?

"Mr. Bindle, this is very frustrating. Are you telling me that I am not entitled to this information?"

"No ... on the contrary. It's just that I'm not the right person to ask," he said with a slight smile. I got the impression he was enjoying this cat-and-mouse game.

"Then whom should I ask?" I spat, raising my voice, exasperated with this pointless conversation.

"The gentleman that you are about to meet, my partner, Mr. Finneus Snipe. He is the Chairman of the Board of DMH and only he is entitled to give you information of a highly confidential nature." Again, Bindle was smiling as if he were the reincarnation of the Cheshire Cat.

I slumped back in my chair and took another sip of my coffee. It was time to calm down and get my thinking back on track. Bindle's little game with me seemed to amuse him, but I couldn't think why.

At that point, Felix Bindle stood. "Come with me, Mr. Hanswatter, and I'll introduce you to Mr. Snipe. I'm sure you'll find the conversation informative ... and fascinating." Again, with that enigmatic smile. 

I stood and followed him to a door in the far side of his office. He opened it, waiting for me to enter. As I did, I saw another office, quite large and just as elegantly furnished as Bindle's. Seated behind a massive desk was a man. When I first saw him, the immediate impression I got was that he looked very much like Ming the Merciless in the ancient Flash Gordon serials.

He was sitting at the desk looking at me with an expressionless gaze. His age was indeterminate. He might have been forty. He might have been sixty. His hair was jet black as was his goatee and his suit. A plain white shirt and a blood-red tie completed what I could see of his wardrobe. The only thing missing was the leather skull cap.

"I'll leave you gentlemen now," I heard Bindle say as the door closed behind me. 

"Please, sit down, Mr. Hanswatter," Ming spoke. I almost laughed out loud. I would have to be careful not to blurt out what I was thinking. 

"Thank you," I said simply. I had decided to start playing Bindle's game of vocal minimalism. Let's see where that gets me.

"I've been expecting you," the man said in a deep baritone.

"You have?"

"Yes ... I've been following your activities and I felt fairly certain you would be seeking more information."

"Yes, that's why I'm here."

"What would you like to know?" he asked quietly, his hands folded beneath his chin, his mouth barely moving as he spoke.

"My inheritance ... the radio ... is that how my uncle amassed the fortune that DMH controls?"

"No ... not really. It's how he knew what to do with it."

"I don't understand. How did he create all that wealth?"




Radio Days Pt. 03



"He didn't ... we did."

"Who is we? DMH?"

"No ... that is merely the device for distribution." He paused for a few moments, looking directly at me with his dark, piercing, unblinking eyes. At last, his hands separated and he put them palms-down on the desk.

"This is going to be difficult for you to understand, Mr. Hanswatter, but I'll try to help you comprehend what this is all about."

"How much more difficult is it than a radio that broadcasts the future and has no visible power source?" I snorted.

"Quite a bit more difficult," he replied in his deep, expressionless voice.

"Well, go ahead. Let's give it a try," I volunteered.

"Very well. To begin with, I am not from here. That is, I am not from this ... planet."

"Right ... you're Emperor Ming and I'm Buck Rogers," I laughed.

"It's no laughing matter, Mr. Hanswatter," his slightly raised voice and unwavering stare emphasized. "Do you really think that little device we gave you is from this primitive technological world? You've already spent enough time with it to know it is genuine and accurate. What do you say to that, Mr. Oswald Charles Hanswatter?"

I got impression he was a bit miffed with my attitude and I readily acknowledged that the radio wasn't anything that I could imagine existed in any form in this world.

"Very well then," he continued. "Perhaps a bit of background will help. Although you think of yourselves as a highly evolved species, you are in fact, primitives. If the developmental time-line for evolved life-forms was a year long, the people of this planet would be dwelling in the first hour. Our species is further along, perhaps somewhere in the second month. That's a quantum leap for your species, but we are still a long way from reaching our potential. Possibly, in a few billion years ..."

"How come you look just like us?" I demanded.

"Isn't it easier to concentrate when we aren't in some threatening or unpleasant form? I am, in fact, a holographic projection. I'm not really here and I certainly don't take this form. It was given to me by someone who had a warped sense of humor. Your Buck Rogers analogy is closer than you realize."

"OK ... suppose I buy this story. Why are you here and why am I involved?"

"Two very good questions and deserving of answers. Our species is here to try and save you people from yourselves. If you aren't fighting self-destructive wars, you are depleting the resources that sustain your life on this planet. Your sociological and environmental recklessness is threatening not just your planet, but others as well. I won't go into all the details, but suffice it to say, the results of the uncontrolled, profligate behavior of your species can have an effect on the entire galaxy if left unchecked."

"That's a pretty big stretch, even for you, Mr. Snipe," I sneered. This was getting more unbelievable by the minute.

"Mr. Hanswatter, that little device that we gave you was able to tell the future up to several years in advance, correct?"

"Yes, as far as I could tell."

"What we gave you is an early model miniature of devices we use to monitor future events throughout our known universe. It's the origin of our more developed equipment that can tell us what to expect many centuries in the future. Can you accept that?"

"I guess so. It makes some sense," I admitted cautiously.

"Very well. Assume for a moment that the deterioration of earth has been going on for some three hundred years. Given that the device will advise what to expect a further three hundred years in the future, doesn't it seem logical that we would know what to expect and what the consequences of benign neglect by your governments will be?"

"Yes ... I suppose it would be logical. But ... if you're so powerful, why don't you just put a stop to it?" 

"I think you're mistaking our ability to travel and the technology of a specific device for the ability to change the path of entire worlds. Believe me, we are not that powerful. Our mission is to find an army of people who will make those changes, one step at a time. That army must come from earth and it must be made up of people just like you. Logical thinkers with a social consciousness and a desire to make things better for future generations."

"That's a pretty tall order for a nobody like me," I said.

"On the contrary, Mr. Hanswatter, that's where we disagree. You are not a 'nobody.' You would not have been selected by your uncle and vetted by our people for this task if we did not believe you could make a difference. Remember, we are not asking you to do this all by yourself. We will give you the resources to be successful and you will know that you are not alone. Far from it. Our army is large and growing each day as we recruit people such as you."

"I'm having a lot of trouble with this, Mr. Snipe. What you are telling me is so far from what I have accepted as reality that I don't know if I can believe it, even if I believe it. Does that make any sense?"

He smiled. For the first time since I had entered the room, he smiled and showed something other than his dour expression.

"Strangely, it does. You are not unique, and I can assure you the largest hurdle we face in this task is to convince the people we recruit that it is not some elaborate hoax or a confidence game. Once we supply them with the training and the resources they need, they are almost always convinced."

"How many people are in this 'army' of yours?"

"Currently, almost one million. Our goal is to double that in the next ten years. To you, that must seem like a very large number and quite a long time, but remember, we are talking about a global army and event consequences centuries in the future."

I found myself lost in thought. This was overwhelming. It was surreal, crazy for me to believe what I was being told. But ... the radio ... it was real. And somehow, it was how they knew something really horrible was going to happen to earth if we didn't do something. But if they were so smart ... how come they couldn't fix it with some kind of ray gun or something? And ... what if I said no? Thanks, but no thanks?

"Mr. Snipe, what would happen if I declined your offer?"

"Nothing. Your life would go on as if we had never met unless ... unless you became obsessed with trying to convince others of what you learned here today. I think you can imagine what your friends and associates would say if you tried to explain it."

"But, I've got the radio. That would be some proof."

"I'm sorry, but you will find that we have disabled the device. It will no longer function," he said in a level, non-threatening voice.

I sat silently for a while as Snipe watched me with a fixed stare.

"Why me?" I finally asked.

"We've had our eye on you for some time, Mr. Hanswatter. We recruit optimists for our army. It's essential to expect success, and that's how optimists think. Also, you have overcome adversity and improved your life. You might have given up when your wife left you, but you didn't. In addition, the people around you like, trust, and respect you. When you begin trying to influence their behavior, that is going to be essential."

"So ... what will change in my life if I join this army?" I asked tentatively.

"Not so much that you won't be able to cope. You will continue to live in Little River. We don't plan anything extraordinary that will set you apart from your friends and neighbors. This is a war of attrition and patience, Mr. Hanswatter. We will grind down the resistance to change one bit at a time and we will win. The victory will be the survival and thriving of the people of this planet."

"Very noble," I mumbled. I was beginning to feel a headache coming on. I wanted to get out and get some fresh air before I had to face the long drive home.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"You will meet your teammate if you choose to accept this challenge. Moral, emotional, and intellectual support is very important in a life-long endeavor."

"Life-long?"

"Yes. You will be part of our army for the rest of your long and happy life, I expect." 

He was smiling again. Where did that come from? Was he that confident in me?

"Who is my partner?" I realized I had just asked a question that implied I had agreed to join this army.

"All in good time, Mr. Hanswatter. All in good time. No need to worry about that now. Can I assume you have agreed to join us?"

"Is there something I don't know? Some surprise that's going to knock me off my feet? Something I've forgotten to ask?" 

"No. No surprises. Well ... perhaps one or two. But ... there is no trick and you are not in any danger. We would never have been able to recruit all the people we now have if it had been a deception. After all, you can change your mind and leave at any time if you aren't happy or satisfied. It isn't like the military," he smiled again.

"Then I guess ... I guess I'm in," I said, almost in wonder at my own voice. 

"Excellent, Mr. Hanswatter! I know you'll make a difference. We have confidence in you."

"Thanks. I wish I felt the same way, but ... I guess I'll take a chance. See what I can do," I said vaguely. 

I don't remember leaving Bindle's office, nor do I remember getting into my car and beginning the long drive back to Little River. I was in no fit mental state to drive, if truth be known, but drive I did. I "came to" somewhere about an hour out of Paramount with an acute awareness of hunger. My watch read almost 1:00 pm and I pulled off the road at the first diner I saw.

I bought a ham and swiss on rye, a bag of chips and a cola to go. Six dollars worth of heartburn. As I drove I ate and tried to make sense of my thoughts. Fat chance! My head felt twice its size and had about twenty ping pong balls rattling off the insides on a continuing basis.

The best I could make of it, I had willingly agreed to join an army of unknown people whose single mission was to save the world and the whole show was being run by a bunch of aliens, one of whom recruited me. Yeah, right! Which one of us was the sane one? Then again, there was that damn radio.

It took me a couple of hours to calm down and get my thinking to something resembling rational. The radio was real. I'd heard it. Mandrake, or whoever the hell he was, claimed it wouldn't work any more. Well, we'll see about that. It was locked in my safe, so no one was going to be able to tamper with it in there. 

The really weird part was that I could forget the whole deal. I didn't have to join. Even if I did, I could quit any time. What was the catch? He was right about one thing though. I wasn't going to be telling anyone about this anytime soon unless I could prove it. The only proof I had was the radio. I'd be hanging onto that for dear life.

There's was one benefit for all this mental turmoil and that was that the long drive home seemed to pass a lot more quickly than last time. The other side of the coin was the headache I had developed with all the ping pong balls bouncing off the inside of my skull. My brain was full! No room at the inn! 

I arrived home just before seven that evening, having driven non-stop after my quick lunch break. My first move was to head for the safe and check the radio. Within two minutes, I knew My Favorite Martian wasn't kidding. The radio no longer worked. Not even any static. Nothing! Shit! I grabbed the CD's and slipped them into my computer. Nothing! All that work ... nothing! Just my notes left for me to ponder.

I sat in my office chair for several minutes, contemplating my navel and accumulated frustrations. At length, I got up and went to the kitchen to make something to eat. I flicked on the TV absently as I gazed into the refrigerator looking for some inspiration. I wasn't concentrating. I was looking but not seeing. This was futile. I went to the washroom, splashed some cold water on my face, picked up my keys and headed out the door.

I ended up at Dorsey's, of course. I liked the place and although it wasn't as busy as it would be on a weekend, it was pretty lively for a Thursday night. A beer and burger later, I was feeling better and a little more relaxed about my predicament. I didn't have any new ideas about what I had experienced this morning. It looked like I should just wait and see. Snipe said something about a partner and training, so I might as well hang tough until one or the other showed up.

I had been sitting at the bar, as I usually did when on my own. After a bit, the attractive dark-haired female bartender wandered down toward me during a quiet spell. 

"So where's the babe tonight?" she grinned.

"Huh?" I'm full of snappy rejoinders.

"You know, the blonde that you've been bringing in here ever since she gave you the evil eye a couple of weeks ago. Don't tell me she dumped you already?"

"No ... oh you mean Tish. No ... no ... nothing like that. I just got back into town after a long drive and I couldn't find the energy to make dinner." 

"So you two ... you still get together?" She was giving me the once-over as she lazily chewed her gum.

"Yeah ... I'm taking it slow. She's had a rough time from some guy or other, I think. Don't want to rush things," I explained.

"Smart move. Too bad though. If she didn't snap you up, I would have," she snickered.

"Huh? You?" I told you I had a gift of the gab.

"Sure. Why not. You look good, you dress good and you're polite. You don't swear, don't smoke and don't drink yourself stupid. What's not to like," she said offhandedly.

I had to admit, I was surprised. I don't ever recall being approached this directly by a woman. Not ever.

"Thanks for the compliment. If it weren't for Tish, I'd be interested as well as flattered," I finally managed. At least I didn't sound like a complete idiot. 

"Well, keep it in mind if Blondie doesn't work out," she said with an arched eyebrow. She drifted up toward the other end of the bar as I sat there with my mouth open. As if my life didn't have enough complications.

I had downed the burger, passed on the fries and had a salad and a second beer. I was still nursing the last of that beer when the bartender caught my attention. She nodded toward the door and I turned on my stool to see what she was indicating. I guess I did a classic double-take. It was Tish. By herself, looking at me but not smiling. 

"Hi," I said as she approached.

"Hi, I hoped you'd be here," she said with a look of what I thought was relief.

I had slipped off the stool and held my hands out to her. She grasped them gratefully and moved into my body, wrapping her arms around me. I responded with my own wrap, and we hugged for a few moments.

"Are you OK? You look worried. Is something wrong?" I said as I held her.

"I'm so glad I found you. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't," she said into my chest.

"Come on, let's find a booth where we can talk," I suggested, leading toward the back of the dining area. It was as far away from the dance floor as we could get. The band would be starting soon and conversation would be difficult.

"Julia and Gil are out at a meeting. I went to the mall to do some shopping and to kill some time and ... and ... he was there." She was clearly upset.

"Who was there?" 

"My ... my ... husband," she finally managed.

"Oh shit," I blurted. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ... your husband?"

"Yes. It's something I've been trying to find a way to tell you. I'm married, but separated and I've filed for divorce. But, he's ... he's fighting it. He said he'll never let me go. He threatened me," she moaned tearfully.

"Threatened you? How? What did he say?" I asked, my blood pressure beginning to rise.

"Ozzie ... I left him because ... because he hit me. He would lose his temper and he would hit me. I couldn't take it anymore. The lawyer that helped me with the harassment suit got a restraining order against him, but now, he's followed me here. I don't know what to do." She broke down and the tears flowed. 

I slid around the other side of the booth and held her in my arms. I didn't know exactly what I could do, but my first instinct was to protect her. One thing for certain, I wasn't a fighter. I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if he hit a defenseless woman, what would stop him from hitting someone else? Namely me.

As I soothed and held her, I tried to think of a strategy to help her. I had lots of friends in city hall and the sheriff's department. It looked like we were going to need them.

"Tish ... does he know where you are staying?"

"I don't know. When I saw him I ran back to Julia and Gil's. I thought I saw a car sitting outside at the curb, so I snuck out the back door and ran over to your house. You weren't home. I didn't know what to do, so I came here, hoping I'd find someone I knew. When I saw you, I was so relieved." She had spewed all this out in a stream, the occasional hiccup and gasp between words. She was on the edge of hyperventilating.

"OK, calm down. Everything's going to be OK. I promise. We'll deal with your husband tomorrow. I can fix it so that he won't bother you again." Boy, was I sticking my neck out. A restraining order, yes. As guarantee of safety ... maybe not.

"Here's what we're going to do. You're coming home with me. We'll phone Julia and Gil and let them know what's going on. I don't think they're in any danger. In the meantime, I'll call the sheriff's office in the morning and we'll look after this guy," I said with more confidence than I felt.

She looked up at me with the biggest, saddest eyes I had ever seen.

"Thank you, Ozzie. Thank you," she said as she nestled her head into my chest. I knew there would be a reward for being a good guy. I think the trust thing was going to be resolved if my friend, the sheriff, could come through for us.

We sat in the booth for quite while, just talking as I held her in my arms. Her husband, one Terry Parmeter, was a nasty character. Any guy who would hit a woman, much less his wife, didn't rate very highly in my books. Tish had met him not long after she graduated from college and found the job in Blanchford. He was a smooth-talking dude with a job selling farm equipment. It didn't take him long to get in deep with the naïve Leticia Darling, and not four months later, they were married.

It took a year before he started smacking Tish around. She blamed it on his job. He wasn't making his quota of sales and his boss was always on his case. He had been threatened with being let go more than once, but so far had dodged the bullet. He took his frustration out on Tish. If she said something he didn't like, or had the temerity to complain, he would lash out. At first it was verbal, but not long afterward, it became physical. 

Tish took it for a few months before the marks became visible and she couldn't pretend to her friends that they were just household accidents. Again, her friends at work rallied around her and pushed her into seeing her lawyer. It took very little to get a restraining order against Terry and at the same time, she filed for divorce. Unfortunately, it enraged him even further and he threatened her with serious harm if she went through with it. 

With the history of the false harassment suit and now an abusive husband, Tish knew it was time to move on. She sent out résumés to a number of county offices in Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Montana. When the response from Little River arrived, it was a godsend. She had friends in Little River. It was a place to escape Terry and start a new life. She wanted this job more than anything she had ever wanted.

The new job and the renewed friendship with the Timelys and the Hashimotos was the tonic she needed. My showing up early in the equation was a slightly uncomfortable complication. She couldn't tell me she was (still) married. She didn't want to color the potential for a good friend. But she had been badly burned, twice. It was the reason for her caution and wariness with me. Now I understood.




Radio Days Pt. 03



When she had talked herself out, we left the booth and walked out to the parking lot. Tish had given me a description of Terry and I kept an eye out for him, just in case. There was no one in sight and we drove back to my house in the gathering dark. 

We had a little argument about who would sleep where, but in the end, I convinced Tish to take my bed and I would sleep on the sofa-bed. We sat on the sofa and watched TV for a while, but I was tired from the drive and Tish was tired from the stress. Shortly after we phoned Julia and Gil and explained what was happening, we both decided to retire early. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.

I loaned her a dressing gown and a clean t-shirt. I had a new toothbrush and plenty of fresh towels and I showed her where everything was. By ten o'clock, we were both in our beds and I don't think I lasted more than a minute before I was fast asleep.

I don't know what woke me, but I became aware of something different in the dark of the living room. I finally realized it was a scent. It was soft and very feminine and seemed to be very near. I rolled over to the edge of the bed and came face to face with Tish.

"Jeez, Tish," I whispered when my heart rate slowed. "You scared the daylights out of me."

"I'm sorry, Ozzie. I was scared. I felt safer out here with you. I didn't mean to wake you." 

"It's OK. But you can't sleep on the floor. I'll trade places with you," I volunteered.

"No ... please Ozzie. Can I .... Can I sleep with you ... just for tonight?"

Oh brother. This was getting really complicated. I wanted nothing more than to have this lovely woman in my bed, but not this way. 

"Tish ... I don't want to ... I ... oh hell. Come on. If we're going to sleep together, let's at least do it in a proper bed." How's that for resolve, eh? I really took the high road there.

I got up, careful not to step on her and led her back to my bedroom. My queen size bed would give her plenty of room without necessarily getting in contact with me and I told her that. Right!

It took her about ten seconds to snuggle up behind me and slide her arm over my chest and hold me tightly. She was still frightened I guessed. Oh well, it was harmless enough I suppose. Tish fell asleep a lot quicker than I did this time. I just hoped her hand didn't wander during the night. She had my full attention and I do mean full.

So there I was, in bed with my personal wet dream and I couldn't or wouldn't do a thing about it. At least I had honorable intentions. I finally drifted off to sleep. I won't tell you about my dreams. They're personal. Very personal. 

I awoke when the clock radio came on and the feeling that I was not alone. I quickly remembered the previous night and Tish climbing into my bed. It took me a few seconds to recognize exactly what my situation was. Tish was plastered to my back, her arm over my waist and her hand gripping my morning stiffy. Oh shit. This was going to be tricky.

There were two very urgent messages going through my brain. Not only did I need to gently remove her hand from my now rigid member, I desperately needed to pee. This was a crisis situation. I reached down for her hand and gently tried to tug it off me. No luck. She was holding on; not tightly, but certainly not lightly. The urge to get to the bathroom was beginning to become critical. 

I reached behind me and let my hand rest on her thigh. At least, I thought it was her thigh. Actually, it turned out to be her very round and lovely backside. Just the same, I squeezed it gently and waited for a response. Nothing! I tried again. Nothing! She was snoring slightly and I hadn't made any impression on her ... yet. Getting desperate, I slipped my hand between the cheeks of her butt and wiggled my fingers. Whatever the reason, she released my cock and rolled over on her back, cleverly trapping my hand beneath her. Great!

I gradually extracted my hand from under her and at last escaped to the bathroom. And not a moment too soon. I decided that since I was awake and Tish wasn't, I would have my shower and shave and get to the kitchen and make some breakfast. It seemed like a decent plan. 

I had been in the shower for about two minutes when the bathroom door opened and Tish wandered in. She closed the door and sat on the commode. I couldn't hear anything with the shower drowning out sound until I heard the toilet flush. I braced myself and moved to the end of the stall, waiting for the water temperature to change, but nothing happened. Only a few seconds later, the curtain was pulled back and a very naked, very beautiful Leticia Darling stepped in to join me.

This only happens in stories, right? This wasn't real life, right? She shuffled down toward me, her eyes not really open and wrapped her arms around me with her chin on my shoulder. God, I had a vivid imagination. There was just one problem. The scent, the touch of her body, the warmth of the shower water, my now complete erection were all real. How did I know? She gently bit my earlobe.

Those damn aliens were doing this to me on purpose. That was the only possible explanation. They were messing with my mind. It had to be that. About the time I came to that conclusion, Tish turned in my arms and backed herself into me, my cock now nestled perfectly between the gorgeous globes of her backside. 

That's when involuntary action took over. In spite of myself, my hands rose and enclosed her lovely, large breasts. My thumb and forefinger, completely out of my control, played with her nipples. I heard and felt her react to my unintentional ministrations. Her hips ground further into me, swaying slightly side to side. The sound that came from her throat was guttural and incredibly sexy. Those bloody aliens. It was all their fault.

So what's a guy supposed to do when he's being held in the power of aliens, I ask you? Go with the flow, of course. If you can't fight 'em, join 'em. I leaned over and kissed the lovely Miss Darling smack on her mouth, which just happened to be turned toward me. And of course, my tongue and her tongue just happened to meet and touch and slip by each other. Damn aliens!

The steam in the shower enclosure, and in fact in the entire bathroom, was getting quite thick. We had created our own sauna and not all of the steam was coming from the shower head. At some point, I knew we were going to run out of hot water and I reached around Tish for the tap and turned it off. I guided her out of the stall and wrapped my biggest, softest bath towel around her. It was a shame, really. She was something to see.

We didn't look our best with our hair plastered to our heads; her normally Nordic-blonde waves now dark and straight. She looked at me and smiled and that's all it took. This was no dream. She was real and this was real and I was real ... aroused. In the space of a few hours we had gone from cautious friendship to complete openness. I don't know why exactly, except that last night's fear and her belief that I could help must have broken down all the remaining barriers.

I handed her another towel and my hair dryer and she began to turn herself into the lovely Leticia Darling that I had first fallen for. That first day I met her, she wore no makeup. She needed none. This morning, in my bathroom, she was recreating that perfect look. Simple, pure, dazzling, and sexy. And every little bit of it was natural.

When I had finished drying myself I waited for her to finish before I shaved. Just watching her gave me pleasure. She was completely unselfconscious. I gazed at her flawless body and wondered which gods were smiling on me. She would turn toward me now and then and always with a smile. Was this the real Tish? I hoped so.

"Do you have a clothes dryer, Ozzie?" she asked as she strolled into the bedroom, naked.

"Yes ... in the laundry room ... off the kitchen."

"I'm just going to wash out my underwear and it won't take long to dry," she explained.

"What would you like for breakfast?" I asked, my eyes never leaving her body.

"Toast and coffee is fine," she smiled.

"Great, I'll get started on it," I said, finally tearing my eyes away from her and walking toward the kitchen in a semi-dazed state.

It didn't take long to make coffee and toast. I had some preserves that had been given to me by an elderly neighbor who loved to share her various home-canning products. As far as I could tell, they were pretty good. I didn't think I was going to poison Tish with them.

Tish came out of the bedroom wearing yesterday's blouse and slacks, carrying her bra and panties to the laundry room. I would drop her off at the Timely's so that she could get changed and checking my watch, I was betting that we wouldn't be more than ten minutes late for work, if that. I would explain to Dickie in general what happened when I got there.

I heard the dryer start and few seconds later, a smiling Tish walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Her hand reached out and covered mine.

"Thanks, Ozzie. Thanks for ... everything," she said. She seemed much calmer and more composed this morning and the episode in the shower and in the bed didn't seem to faze her. It was such a complete change from our tentative relationship up until last night. I was really having trouble accepting that this was where we were at ... at least for now.

"I'll drive you to the Timely's and wait for you while you change. I can explain to Dickie if we're late. That OK?"

She nodded with a smile. "That's fine. Thank you. You're very thoughtful. Looks like I found my white knight." There was nothing frivolous or insincere about her comment. 

"When we get to the office, I'll call the sheriff and I'll see what we can do about your ex-husband-to-be. How long before the divorce is final?" I asked.

"Another ten weeks. It feels like ten years. Even then, I'm not sure I'm ever going to be rid of him," she moaned.

"Tish ... one thing you can depend on. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I don't know all the answers yet, but we have to get this guy out of your life and off your mind. You'll never know a moment's peace until that happens. I'll do whatever I have to and I'll get everyone I know to help. Count on it," I emphasized. 

She was looking at me, her eyes sparkling and a soft smile on her lips. She was absolutely confident that I could look after this problem. I read that in her face and her body language. We had made a very big leap of faith that morning. Now I was responsible, and I had better be able to live up to my promises.

Tish wasn't one to diddle and dither, I discovered. I stopped at the Timely's and within ten minutes she re-emerged wearing fresh clothes and makeup. We arrived at the office on time and a trip to Dickie's office was unnecessary. I checked my messages and mail and within an hour, I was up-to-date. It freed me up to talk to my boss, Milo Selwind, and let him know what was happening. I gave him the generic, abbreviated version, but he was sympathetic as I knew he would be and wished me luck.

I picked up the phone and called Sheriff Rowdy Carbutt. Rowdy had been county sheriff for as long as anyone could remember. He was slated to retire in a couple of years and he had been carefully coaching his deputy, Stan Whacker, in the ways of Little River justice. Rowdy was a good sheriff, apparently incorruptible and yet flexible in the ways he enforced the law. He was ideal for the situation he was presented with.

"Thanks for seeing me, Sheriff," I began. I had made an appointment and we met in his office late that same afternoon. I gave Rowdy an outline of who Leticia Darling Parmeter was and where she worked. I emphasized that Tish would become a very valuable member of the county staff and we wouldn't want to lose her because we couldn't protect her.

You didn't get to be sheriff for as long as Rowdy had without figuring out all the angles. We talked back and forth and when I mentioned that Terry Parmeter had followed Tish from Washington to here in Idaho, his eyes lit up.

"Damn. I think we got him, Ozzie. You said there was a restraining order out on him in Blanchford. Do you know if it was county or state court issued?" he asked intently.

"No, but Tish has a copy of it. That will tell us, won't it?"

"Yep. Sure as hell will. Let's hope it's a state court order. That carries a lot more weight and I can make something out of it," he said, talking as much to himself as to me.

"In the meantime, I'll get Judge Prosper to issue one here, just for good luck. Then, I'll get my boys to round up Mr. Terry Parmeter and he and I will have a nice little talk. Well, maybe I'll do the talking and he'll do the listening ... if he's smart." 

"Ozzie, you get Miss Darling to give you a copy of the restraining order and have it here tomorrow morning. I know it'll be Saturday, but I can look after the details anyway. The judge will give me the restraining order on my say-so." He seemed to be supremely confident that the matter was in hand and I had no reason to doubt him. He'd been doing this for a long time.

"Thanks Sheriff. I really appreciate this. It'll take a big load off her mind ... and mine," I admitted.

"You kind of sweet on the girl, Ozzie?"

"Yeah ... you could say that," I grinned.

"Good for you. About time. You'll need a wife to git where you're headed," he said with an approving nod.

"Huh?" What did he mean by that? What did he know that I didn't? I shook it off and thanked him again for his help, anxious to get to Tish to let her know what the sheriff had promised and to pick up a copy of the restraining order.

"Hi Tish. Glad I caught you," I said when she answered the phone.

"Hi Ozzie. How's my white knight?" I could hear the happy tinkle in her voice. God that sounded good!

"I'm fine. I wanted you to know that I had a talk with the sheriff this afternoon and he's going to help you. He's going to get a local restraining order and then his deputies are going to go looking for Terry and pick him up and bring him in for a little one-on-one chit chat. I have a feeling your problem is about to disappear," I said happily.

"Oh Ozzie ... that's wonderful. I don't know how to thank you. I feel so relieved. You really are my hero, you know," she bubbled.

"Thanks. I'm happy I could help. Oh, and the sheriff needs a copy of the Blanchford restraining order. I'll take it in to his office tomorrow morning. We'll have the local restraining order tomorrow afternoon. How does that sound?" I asked, knowing full well the answer.

"It sounds great. I feel like celebrating, Ozzie. Would you like to celebrate with me? We can go to Dorsey's or we can just stay home," she suggested in a sultry voice.

"Why don't we do some of each? We can have dinner and dance a bit, and then ...."

"And then what?" she teased.

"We'll see. After this morning, I'll let you decide. You seem to have impeccable judgement when it comes to ... entertaining," I suggested.

"Well, hurry on over then. I don't want to waste a minute of tonight. I feel so good ... so ... liberated. And it's all thanks to you," she cooed.

"How can I resist. I'll be there in a half-hour. I just have to shower and change and I'll be knocking on the Timely's door," I said brightly.

I was only a half hour. I whipped off my work clothes and selected my best sport shirt and slacks and my new Italian loafers. Nothing too good for my lady. I showered and shaved quickly, even though I probably didn't need to. I wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

I knocked on the Timely's door and Julia answered. I was barely inside when she gave me a great big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Ozzie. You don't know how much you've done for Tish. She was a basket case until you came along. If I weren't married, I'd be after you too," she grinned.

Well, wasn't that nice. I had some new friends. That always felt good. Gil wandered into the living room and stuck out his hand. He seemed genuinely glad to see me. I guess Julia's worries were his worries too. It kind of works that way when you're married.

I didn't have to wait long for Tish, and when she walked into the living room, I had only one response.

"Wow!" 

There are sexy women and then there are SEXY women. Tish immediately qualified in the latter category. She wore an emerald green sleeveless blouse, open to mid-breast. The skirt was cream, knee high, and tight. This was a display of assets and god knows, Tish had assets. A pair of dark green medium heels finished the wardrobe. 

Tish laughingly called her hair "wash and wear" and that just didn't do it justice. It was the color of pale gold and it literally shone in the lights. She was going to knock them dead at Dorsey Doe's tonight. I almost felt sorry for the single guys that would be there. Almost.

"Tish, you look fabulous," I gasped.

"Why thank you, Ozzie. You look pretty good yourself," she smiled. She was in a fun and upbeat mood and I was sure we were going to enjoy ourselves tonight. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Julia smiling and nudging Gil with her elbow. I promised them not to keep her out too late and Julia just laughed. I don't think she took me seriously. And after last night, who could blame her.

I was right about one thing. If the guys had been dogs, Dorsey's would have been awash in saliva that night. Even the married ones couldn't resist and I saw a lot of wives poking their husbands to get their attention. Now there's the kind of thing that builds your ego. We had just finished our main course when my favorite bartender walked to our table.

"Ozzie, there's a phone call for you. You can take it in the office. It's quieter there," she offered.

"Thanks, I'll go get it." I excused myself and hustled toward the office, wondering who would track me down here on a Friday night.

"Hello?" 

"Ozzie, it's Rowdy. I got some news for you. Our mutual 'friend' from Blanchford was found misbehaving this afternoon and he is currently a guest of the county. It'll give me a chance to talk to him when we get the rest of our paperwork together," he said matter-of-factly.

"That's great, Sheriff. I really appreciate you telling me. There won't be any chance encounters tonight then?"

"Nope. His ass is mine for now and perhaps the foreseeable future," he chortled.

"What did he do, if I may ask?"

"I believe one of our citizens saw him spitting on the sidewalk. You know how the county feels about that. Why it's next to burning the flag. Dumb-ass!"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. This was small-town justice at its best.

"Thanks again, Sheriff. You've made my day and Tish's too. I'll see you tomorrow," I finished.

I almost skipped back to our table with grin she couldn't fail to miss.

"What? Who was that?" She was like a kid at Christmas. Couldn't wait to find out what was making me smile.

"That was our esteemed sheriff informing me that one Terrence Parmeter is currently residing in the crowbar hotel and will be for some time," I exalted.

Tish's eyes went big and round and her mouth too. Her hands reached out and grabbed my arm and pulled me to her and gave me the biggest, longest, most passionate kiss I could ever remember. Damn, but it was nice to be the "good guy."

When we finished with our lip-lock, I looked around and realized we had attracted an audience. Mind you, Tish had attracted an audience just walking in the front door. However, this was different. You could see the question marks written on their faces. Well, no need to spoil the fun. Let them guess. Eat you hearts out, guys. She's all mine.

We danced. Well, we sort of danced. We were welded together and it didn't matter whether the music was fast or slow, we just hung onto one another and moved to our own beat. Tish had her arms around my neck and I had mine around her waist and there wasn't a square inch of the front of our bodies that wasn't in contact.




Radio Days Pt. 03



She was driving me to distraction. Whenever she had the chance, she would grind her hips into my pelvis. My erection was now permanent and painful. On top of that, she had developed this new habit of nibbling on my ear lobes. Not that it didn't feel great. I wondered to myself what the other people in this dance hall thought was going on with us. On second thought, I didn't want to know.

"Let's go," Tish announced quietly when the band took their second break. "I want some quiet time with my white knight," she murmured.

I paid the bill and we left hand-in-hand into the parking lot, homeward bound. There wasn't any question that we were heading for my house. There didn't seem to be any doubt what would happen when we got there, either. I just assumed that we were going consummate this romance. For once, I was right.

We had barely gotten in the door when Tish kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her blouse and slipped out of her skirt. She stood there in the living room, hands on hips, a sly grin on her lips and an arched eyebrow. She couldn't look any sexier if she tried. Then she tried. She crooked her finger, making it obvious that I was being summoned. Guys, I was only following orders.

We had already seen each other naked, but this was different. This time there were expectations. This time she was wide awake and aware of every move she made. This time, there was no guessing. She pulled me to the bedroom and helped me out of my clothes. Hers were in a pile in the living room, but that didn't seem to matter. 

It was no surprise that I was not dealing with a nervous virgin. No indeed. Tish knew what she wanted and was certainly going to let me know. For my part, I was happy to comply. I was getting my Christmas, Birthday and Valentine's Day presents all at one time. It had been a while since I had had sex and I needed some guidance. Tish looked after everything. What a woman!

I don't recall when we finally ran out of steam, but it was long after we had climbed on the bed. We had made a mess of the sheets and yet, neither of us cared. We had been too busy celebrating. Tish reminded me of something that I had almost completely forgotten. Sex was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be about joy and sharing and loving just as much as it was about physical satisfaction. 

For my part, I reverted to my firmly held belief that the most rewarding sex came when you spent your efforts pleasing your partner. I think Tish agreed. At least, that's what I interpreted from the sounds she was making as we cavorted on that big mattress. 

When I woke up Saturday morning, it was almost a repeat of the previous morning. Tish was glued to my back and her right hand was nicely holding my morning erection. The urgency to pee wasn't as acute. I think we must have sweated most of the moisture out of our bodies with our physical efforts. As a reward, I reached back and squeezed a lovely globe of her backside. This time, she mumbled something and then squeezed my cock, slightly stroking it at the same time. 

I can't think of a better way to greet the day, any day, than slow, sensuous sex. Tish pushed me onto my back and mounted me, guiding me into her as she did. I don't think she opened her eyes, but she was there, all right. She used her internal muscles to substitute for her arms and legs. It worked just fine. I was just a passenger and that was OK with me. 

When we finished, we lay in each other's arms, not speaking, but awake. 

"Ozzie?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Now that I've told you everything about me, when are you going to tell me about the puzzle?"

Oh Shit! Not now. I wasn't ready for that yet. Trapped! Now what do I do?

End of Part 3

Next: The Big Finale 



Radio Days Pt. 04



Well folks, we are getting near the end of this saga. On the one hand, a lot of weird stuff has been happening to me, Ozzie Hanswatter. On the other hand, some really good stuff has been happening to me as well; namely Leticia "Tish" Darling.

I've been so busy meeting with alien recruiting agents and wooing beautiful blondes, you'd wonder how I had the time to do my job. The truth is, my job isn't that hard. What is hard is trying to believe that my inheritance, a little radio that tells the future, is actually an alien device. It seems like bait to get me to meet with this guy Snipe. You know, the one who looks like Ming the Merciless. 

Anyway, this guy wants me to join his army and help save the planet. I thought that was a job for Greenpeace, but no, he insists I'm the guy he wants, along with another million or so like me. I'm thinking about it. No promises, but I did sort of agree to go along with it just to see what it was all about.

In the meantime, Tish and I are getting really close. Close enough that we've become intimate, if you know what I mean. I can't believe I could be so lucky! I found out she's been trying to cut loose from an ex-husband who liked to hit her. He followed her here to Little River and so I had a talk with the sheriff and he's going to help us keep him away from her. 

So that's where we are right now; me waiting to hear from the aliens and Tish and I getting real close. But today was my day of reckoning. I finally had to tell Tish what was going on with my "puzzle."

The Big Finale:

I delivered the copy of the Blanchford restraining order to Sheriff Carbutt on Saturday morning as promised. I could see by the heading that it had been issued by the State of Washington and I knew that was what the sheriff had been hoping for. He took one look at it, flashed a big smile and then proceeded to read the order. 

It was pretty specific. Terrence Parmeter was not permitted within 500 feet of Leticia Darling Parmeter and was to refrain from contacting her in any way; verbal or written. The sheriff shook his head and looked at Ozzie.

"Son, this doesn't look good for him. It's a state order and that carries a lot of weight hereabouts. The judge says we'll use this to get a state order here to trump the local county order. That means we can call in the state police if he violates it in Idaho. That's serious stuff as I'm sure you can imagine.

I was smiling I know. It sounded like we had Mr. Parmeter by the short and curlies. Violating the order would get him some jail time, plus a criminal record. If he thought he had job troubles before, they would pale in comparison to that. 

"I should be able to get the state order by late Monday or Tuesday latest," the sheriff said. In the meantime, I'll have a little chat with Mr. Parmeter and let him know just how much trouble he might be in. Idaho has an anti-stalking law as well, so if necessary, I can threaten him with that. I'm thinkin' by Monday or Tuesday, he's going to be high-tailin' it out of here, if not sooner.

I shook my head in admiration. "You've gone to a lot of trouble, and don't think we're not grateful, sheriff. Tish is greatly relieved and grateful for your efforts and I'm sure she'll be around to thank you in person," I grinned.

"I'll look forward to it. This office can use a little sunshine, now and then," he smiled.

I gotta explain about our sheriff. He's a big, long drink of water; maybe six-four. He kind of reminds me of Gary Cooper, with a Sam Elliot voice. If they still made westerns in Hollywood, he'd be perfect for the part of the sheriff. A good guy with a good heart mixed with some toughness. Little River was lucky to have him.

We shook hands and I left to head back home. I left Tish at the Timely's and promised to see her later that day. I needed some time to myself. My other problem hadn't gone away. The radio, the meeting with Snipe, my future in their "army," and my unnamed partner. Not to mention explaining all this to Tish.

So now, coming right at me was the moment of truth. I had to live up to my promise. Tish had revealed everything about her life to me. It was my turn. I had stalled her until tonight. I had no idea how I would make her understand or how I could even try. I wondered if this would be the end of us. 

On the spur of the moment, I had phoned Ernie Gent and asked to meet with him. This time, it wasn't about new clothes. This time, I needed some sober advice. I had known Ernie since my early days in high school. Despite his carefree outer appearance, he was a serious and smart guy. While we hadn't been close until lately, we were friends and I trusted him implicitly.

"What's up, Oz. It sounded pretty heavy on the phone."

"Yeah ... it is," I admitted. I sat in the old oak office chair in the back of his haberdashery. Ernie had closed up at five pm as he usually did on Saturday. We were alone. I had a hell of a time getting started. I spent a lot of time trying to get Ernie to understand this was going to be a very strange story and that I wanted him to listen and then we could talk later. 

"Yeah ... sure, Oz. I understand. Why don't you just tell me the way you want to tell me and we can go from there." There wasn't a hint of humor or doubt in his voice. 

So I did. I began with the reading of my Uncle Darby's will and the radio and what I discovered about it, and then my phone call to Felix Bindle. I don't think I left out anything right up to the time I was ushered in to see Mr. Snipe. At that point I paused and took a deep breath.

Ernie hadn't flinched when I described the radio and what I had heard on it. I thought about bringing my notes, but decided it would be a distraction at that point and I could always show them to him later. It was time for the "big one."

I started again, and described my conversation with Snipe as best I could reconstruct it. Again, Ernie didn't seem to react to what I thought would be a real shocker and he just sat, concentrating on my face, saying nothing. Strange?

When I finished, I let out another deep breath, as if I'd been holding it since I started with my story. Perhaps I had.

"Well," I finally managed, "What do you think? Am I ready for the rubber room?"

Ernie didn't say anything for a few moments. He just kept his eyes on me, watching for what?

Finally, he sat up. "I think you believe every single word you've told me. I think you are absolutely convinced that what took place was real and that this story isn't over," he said in a level, controlled voice. 

"What about you, Ernie? Do you believe it?"

He smiled. It was one of those self-deprecating smiles that he was so good at. "It doesn't matter what I think," he shrugged. "It matters what you think. But ... but ... I would like to see your notes. There may be something there that will tell me ... us ... more."

"Sure. Why don't we go over to my house and I can show you everything. Even what remains of the radio. OK?"

"Yeah. Let me phone Pearl and let her know I'll be late. I'll meet you at your house in ten minutes," he promised.

He was as good as his word and I let him in, leading him to my office. I showed him the dormant blue radio and my file with all my organized notes and he whistled when he saw the size of it.

"Jeez, Oz. This must have taken forever. How did you remember it all?" he asked.

Kerblammo! How could I be so stupid? The recorder! I still had the portable recorder. Surely, some of the radio broadcast must still be on the little devil.

Ernie saw the look on my face and reacted immediately.

"What's wrong? Are you OK?" 

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head in wonder. "I just realized. I couldn't keep up with my notes, so I recorded the broadcasts on a memory card. If I'm right, there must be something still on it that will prove what I'm telling you," I said in what I knew was an excited voice.

I stood and walked to my desk and opened the drawer, taking out the little recorder and holding it in my hand. I was almost afraid to turn it on. I was afraid that there wouldn't be anything there. Then what? If they could wipe the radio and the CD's, they could probably wipe the card. My hands were shaking and I couldn't move. I couldn't bring myself to turn it on.

As I gazed at it, Ernie's hand closed over it and took it from me. He looked at me and then at the recorder and pushed the 'on' button, then 'play.' I held my breath. Within seconds, I knew that I was vindicated. The sounds of the radio came through loud and clear. I remembered the broadcast. It was a year or so in the future and it was a business report I was interested in for potential investment purposes. 

Ernie listened in fascination. I don't think it really hit him until the announcer started reviewing stock performances and referring to this year's results. This year wasn't two thirds over yet. He stopped it and reset the memory to the beginning, listening as the tiny machine foretold the future.

I don't know when he turned it off, but it was several minutes later. I had slumped back in my chair and just watched his expression as he absorbed what he was hearing. I expected a different reaction, I guess. His face lacked any sign of amazement or bewilderment. But, he was concentrating very hard. That much I could tell.

"Well, that really is something," Ernie finally ventured.

"It's better than that, Ernie. I can tell Tish about what's been happening, and not worry about her thinking I'm a nut-case."

He nodded, understanding. "One thing, though, Oz. You can't tell anyone else," he said in a level tone. 

I looked at him with a question mark on my expression. "Why not?"

"You just can't. Trust me, Oz. I know how much Tish means to you and you don't want to keep secrets from her ... but ... that's where it has to end," he said unequivocally.

I looked at him, wondering what he was telling me. What message was I supposed to receive from this unilateral declaration? And then ... and then ... the lights went on.

"You?"

He nodded.

"Partner?"

He smiled. "Yep."

I thought I was going to pass out. I sat back in my chair, staring at my friend.

"How long?"

"Couple of years."

"Does Pearl know?"

"Yeah ... right from the beginning," he said with a smile. "We don't have any secrets."

"Shit ... I had no idea," I confessed.

"You weren't supposed to. Remember, life goes on and this is a long-term plan. Very long-term," he said levelly.

"So ... my friend ... my tailor ... is my partner," I cleverly summarized.

"Yeah. I didn't have the luxury of the radio to confirm what my contact was telling me was true. Then again, I wasn't going to doubt him after a couple of his predictions came to pass," Ernie said.

"Who did you talk to? Snipe?"

"No ... at least, I don't think so," he laughed. This guy didn't look anything like your description of Snipe. He was pretty non-descript. Plain vanilla, I'd say."

"So who put you in contact with them?" I asked.

"You'll never guess. My father," he said with a grin.

"Your father. He's one of the army too?"

"Yep. Has been for years. He was just waiting for their say-so to recruit me."

"Well I'll be damned," I whistled. "What about Pearl. How did you convince her?"

"It wasn't that hard. With Dad there and with us knowing each other so well, she pretty well figured out I hadn't fallen off the trolley. Then, she got to meet my contact ... called himself Purefoy. Anyway, that was that. I didn't know you were picked as my partner, but as far as I'm concerned, I couldn't be happier."

"Thanks. I feel the same way. I just hope Tish does too."

He nodded. "One thing, Oz. When you tell Tish tonight, Pearl and I will be there. We don't want her freaking out. OK?"

"Yeah ... of course. Thanks. I've been dreading the moment. I don't think I knew how to start, much less tell her this whole loony story.

"Another thing, Oz. When you've finished telling Tish, you're going to format the card, understood?"

"Yeah ... I suppose. As long as Tish is OK with all this ... craziness, I won't need it anymore," I said with some doubt in my mind. 

I sat back for a moment and then looked at Ernie and grinned. "So it's all true, then. The army is real, Snipe or whatever his name is ... he's real." Ernie was nodding as I rambled on. 

"What about this business of quitting if I don't like it or can't handle it?" I asked.

"All true. But I know you, Oz. You won't just handle it, you'll thrive in it. You are perfect for this role," he said, smiling confidently.

I slumped a little more in my chair as I thought about the implications of what Ernie had told me. I was going around and around in circles again. It was time to drop anchor.

"You want a beer?" I asked.

"Sure. Why don't you order in Chinese for the four of us. It might be a long night. Don't worry about Tish. Pearl is going to pick her up and bring her here. They should be here soon. In the meantime, I think you could use a beer more than me," he grinned.

I wandered into the kitchen and popped the top on two amber ales and strolled back to the living room. We sat in chairs facing each other and I tried to get my mind to slow down and operate properly.

"Ernie," I finally spoke. "You and Pearl ... you've been together over twenty years. As far as I can tell, you two look and act like newlyweds. How do you do it?"

"I bury her in love, Oz. Pearl will never know a day that she isn't sure of that."

He paused for a moment, taking a sip of his ale.

"I can tell Tish thinks the sun shines out your ass, so just bury her in love. That part I know you can handle. You've been waiting for this woman for a long time. Sometimes, good things come to those who wait. I heard that somewhere," he smiled.

"Yeah ... I've done my waiting. I want Tish so badly, I don't know how to tell her," I confessed.

He laughed lightly. "Just tell her. Just tell her like you just told me. Maybe just tell her like you just told yourself ... for the first time?" he guessed.

I thought about it and then nodded. "Yeah. I love her. Maybe I have for a while, but I'm dead certain I love her. I guess I just had to convince myself. I just hope she feels the same way."

"I wouldn't worry about that for one second. She's been waiting just as long for someone like you. You know her history. You're the best thing that's ever happened to her and she knows it. Trust me. Pearl says it's so and if Pearl says it ... it's so!" 

We were just starting our second beer when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and welcomed Tish and Pearl into my home. Tish had what looked like an overnight bag with her and when I saw that, I looked at her and gave her a big smile and a kiss; getting one right back.

"Hi girls. Come on in and find a seat. Ernie's pouring you a glass of wine right this minute and the food will be along shortly.

We sat in the living room, exchanging small talk, waiting for the doorbell to ring again. Fifteen minutes later, the food arrived and we all gathered in the kitchen to divvy up the spoils and savor the food. As usual, we ordered more than we could eat, even though I think we all ate far more than we normally would. I know I did.

Sated and relaxed, we returned to the living room to sit and allow our meal to digest. I didn't quite know how to get the topic of my "puzzle" started, but in the end, I didn't have to. Ernie, my "partner," looked after it.

"Tish, you're probably wondering what Pearl and I are doing here when you were expecting Ozzie to tell you about his inheritance and all the things he's been reluctant to explain about it. That's why we're here. We ... Pearl and I ... are part of that "puzzle."

Ernie began by telling Tish about my meeting with Bindle, the radio, and then, finally, my meeting with Snipe. Throughout his narration, she sat completely still, in total concentration on Ernie's concise yet thorough explanation. She didn't blink when he told her about the radio's unique attributes. She did react slightly when he told her about Snipe and his role in recruiting the army. 

I had the little recorder in my pocket and I pulled it out. Before Tish really had time to absorb the implications of what she had been told, I turned the device on and let her listen to some of the radio broadcasts. Ernie and I had selected a few samples that would be meaningful to Tish and when we had finished playing them, we waited for her reaction.

"I knew it was something ... different ... something strange. I had no idea that I could be as ... strange as this," she said in a bewildered voice. "Do you believe this, Ozzie?" she finally asked, turning to me.

"Yes." I didn't feel the need for further embellishment.

"And you, Ernie ... Pearl?"

They nodded in unison. "Tish ... I'm ... we ... Pearl and I ... we're Ozzie's partners. We've been part of the army for over two years. It's real and it's important, just like Snipe said. I guess I have to also confess that I was one of the people who was sure Ozzie was right for this job. His uncle believed in him, but we were careful and needed to be sure. I'm sure. So is Pearl. So is Snipe ... and Bindle for that matter. 

"Ozzie is special, Tish. He's not like other guys. But then, I think you know that already, don't you?" Pearl said.

Tish turned to me and smiled. "Yes. He's special. He's my white knight."

"White knights are hard to come by," Pearl continued. "We have to learn to share them, just as I had to learn to share Ernie," she said, smiling at her husband. 

"I'm sure this is all a bit overwhelming, Tish. I know it's a lot to ask to just accept it. But the reason I chose to tell you is because you have become so important in my life," I said, more nervous that I could ever remember being.

I was about to say something more, when Ernie and Pearl rose.

"I think it's time for us to go. If there's anything you want to know or if you need anything, Tish, please just call us. We'll be there for you," Pearl said, hugging my lady to her. I passed the recorder to Ernie and he slipped it in his pocket. They said their farewells and left. Tish and I watched and waved as they pulled away and then returned to the living room.

Tish sat down beside me on the sofa. I reached for her hands and held them, raising my eyes to her face. She was completely at ease, I thought, which surprised me. With all the confusion and turmoil we must have caused her, I found it odd that she was calm.

"Tish ... there's something I need to tell you," I began, haltingly.

She looked at me and I thought for just a second I saw the hint of a smile. It gave me the courage I needed.

"I love you, Tish. I think I've known it for a while, but whenever it was, I know it and I'm sure of it. I love you," I said, amazed that I could get it all out at once.

This time the smile wasn't just a hint. It was there. It was real.

"I know," was all she said as she continued to watch me, focused on my eyes.

"And?"

"You mean you can't tell?" she continued to smile.

"I ... I ... hope ... that you ... feel that way too. I mean ... about me," I stammered.

The next moments seemed to take place in slow motion. Her hands first ... and then her arms around my neck ... and then her face right in front of me and then ... and then ... "god, this woman can kiss," I said to myself, desperately trying to breath as she attempted to suck the life out of me. 

"Does that answer your question?" she smirked from a distance of about a quarter-inch.

"Yeah ... in spades. God, this feels good. Do you mind if we stay this way for the rest of our lives?" I kidded.

"Nope."

"We've got some serious stuff to talk about, love," I finally said. I hoped this wasn't a mood-breaker.

"Yeah ... we sure have. Real serious stuff," she grinned. 

"OK, you go first," I offered.




Radio Days Pt. 04



"Two things ... marriage and kids," she said succinctly.

"Yeah ... that about covers it," I said, nuzzling into her neck. 

"You haven't asked me," she said with a phony pout.

"OK. Will you marry me and do you want kids?" I blurted out as I nibbled on her earlobe.

"Oh no you don't. You're going to do this properly. I've waited a long time for you to come along and I'm going to get a proper proposal and then we're going to have a proper discussion about our future. Understood?"

I knew she wasn't angry or upset. It was a bit of play-acting, but I dared not treat it frivolously. I slipped off the sofa and with one knee on the carpet and holding both her hands in mine, I said the words I knew she wanted to hear.

"My beautiful, lovely Leticia, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me?" I didn't think that was too bad, all things considered.

"Well, that wasn't the most creative proposal, but ... seeing that it's you ... and seeing that I'm in need of a white knight, I suppose ... I suppose I can see my way ...."

She couldn't carry it off. She started to giggle and then as I joined her, it turned into outright laughter. We both ended up on the floor, holding each other as we laughed uncontrollably. With all the internal tension we harbored, it took a while for the laughter to subside, but when it did, I pulled her to me and we kissed with the passion both of us felt for the other. There was no mistaking the message.

She pulled her head back and gazed at me, her eyes searching mine.

"If you hadn't told me you loved me tonight ... I think I would have died," she moaned. "I've been waiting and waiting for you to tell me what I know you felt, but ... it took you a long time to get it out, didn't it?"

"Yes. I admit ... I didn't really know what to expect. I've just recently realized that I had never been in love until I met you. Certainly not with Martha. You were a surprise. A wonderful surprise. You arrived just in the nick of time. Tish ... I'm so happy, I can't tell you how I feel. It's confusing and exciting and a bit frightening and ... every good emotion that it's possible to have." 

Our foreheads were touching and I could see tears trickling down Tish's cheeks as I spoke.

"You don't really need me to tell you how I feel, do you?" she whispered. "You know. I know you know. The whole world knows."

"I just need to hear you say it. I guess I'm a bit insecure that way."

"I love you, Oswald Charles Hanswatter. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. I want to be your wife and have your babies and live with you forever."

"OK, that's good for starters," I kidded. My reward was a stinging knuckle-punch on the bicep in payment for my cheekiness. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make light of your admission. It was everything I ever wanted to hear. I don't think I can quite believe my good fortune. I'm not even sure if I've really understood what happened here tonight. But I wouldn't change it for anything," I said softly as I pulled her to me again and wrapped her in my arms.

Now, under normal circumstances, you might think this story ends here and they live happily ever after. Who said this story was about normal? Lots of other neat and weird stuff happened, so you might as well hear about that too.

By coffee break on Monday, everyone in the county office knew we were engaged. I was surprised and pleased at just how many people came up to me and congratulated me and wished us well. I know Tish got a lot of the same, even though she'd only been there a little over a month.

A month! We'd only known each other a month and we were engaged. That was something that set me back on my heels. How had all this happened so quickly? Did I have second thoughts? Not a one! And trust me, I examined my motives and my feelings and all the things that made me tick and when all was said and done, I was absolutely convinced it was the right thing for me. I wanted this woman as my wife. Period!

I kept probing Tish to make sure she was just as convinced and couldn't find a hint of doubt. That Monday, we used our lunch break to make a quick trip to the jewelry store and look for a ring. I think I'd have given Tish the Hope Diamond if she'd asked for it, but in fact, the ring she was looking at was so modest, I was almost embarrassed for her. 

It took a bit of talking, but I finally convinced her of something a little more elegant and expressive. When she asked me for the umpteenth time if I was sure and I once again assured her I was, she agreed. She picked out the wedding bands and I was quite happy with simple gold bands for both of us. 

The jeweler promised them ready for Friday, and that timing was perfect. I had suggested to Tish that we travel to Spokane to see her parents. I had it in mind to ask for their daughter's hand in marriage, even though their approval wasn't going to change our plans. It seemed like a small courtesy. 

I was more worried about trying to explain the fact that Tish was still legally married to butt-head and our wedding was dependant upon the finalization of the divorce decree. According to the documents, that should come sometime near the first of October. 

Tish assured me that her parents knew all about Terry Parmeter and his behavior and that they were just as anxious to see her free of him and safe as well. One thing was certain, there would be no mention of my inheritance or my experiences with Mr. Snipe. 

I had been lobbying Tish to move in with me. It just seemed the logical thing to do. She hadn't agreed yet, but I figured maybe I could get some of her friends (Julia, Tommie and Pearl) to convince her there was nothing wrong with it. 

In the meantime, we had thought about a small civil ceremony with just a few close friends in attendance. The Timely's, the Hashimoto's, The Gent's, and Tish's parents. Nice try! Before I knew it, there were plans afoot for something a good deal more elaborate than that. On top of that, it was going to be catered and the bill was going to be picked up by ... wait for it ... DMH!

I guess I had mentioned to Felix Bindle that Tish and I were getting married and he was enthusiastically supportive. Now, if you knew Felix, you'd know that enthusiasm is not something you'd immediately think of as a personality trait. But, to my surprise, he was determined to make this the wedding of the season, even if the season was fall.

By the time we saw the guest list, I almost fell over and I think Tish was just as surprised. The list included almost everyone at the county office, Sheriff Carbutt and his wife Ramona, and Bindle's secretary; surprise, surprise. It turns out she was Felix's girlfriend and they had been going steady for several years. I didn't see Snipe's name anywhere on the list, but that wasn't a surprise. Holograms hardly ever have any fun at wedding receptions.

There were also a few names on the list that looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite put a face with any of the names. Little River didn't have that many big social events and Felix and our friends were determined to turn this into one.

I think the thing that surprised me more than anything was the good wishes and congratulations that I kept getting from so many people. People I hardly knew in some cases. I tried not to let it go to my head and I kept questioning it with Tish. I think she got a little fed up with my humble attitude and told me to "put a sock in it!" I did. Remember, "just go with the flow" was my new mantra.

The trip to Spokane was long, but important. We left Friday after work and headed for Pendleton, Oregon. The short way to Spokane from Little River was actually the long way. Better roads and fewer towns made it faster. Still, it was a six hour drive non-stop, and Pendleton was a nice half-way point. We had a light meal late at the hotel and retired early. We'd be up at eight and on the road by nine with arrival at the Darling home by noon. 

I was anxious about meeting Tish's parents, but I shouldn't have been. They welcomed me and made me feel right at home. Within a few minutes of my arrival, Mel Darling and I each had a beer in our hand and had tuned in the Orioles-Yankee's game on Fox. The only thing missing was the popcorn, but that was because Muriel was busy with daughter Tish in the kitchen putting together a big lunch. I could see myself working extra hard at the gym for the next few weeks.

When things calmed down after the lunch and the ballgame, I got around to asking Mel his permission for his daughter's hand. He got a real serious look on his face and I thought for a minute I was in trouble. 

"Son, there's only two things that I want you to solemnly swear to me that you will never do. First, you will never hurt my little girl the way that asshole Parmeter did. Neither physically nor mentally. Can you promise me and Mrs. Darling that?"

"Yes sir. It's written in stone. It will never happen," I said with as much emphasis as I could.

"Good. The second and just as important. I don't ever, ever want to hear of you rooting for them damn Yankees. Can you promise me that?" 

I nearly bust a gut. "Yeah ... ha ha ha ... no problem. I'm a Red Sox fan from away back. You're daughter's in safe hands with me."

He gave me a big smile and looked furtively around. "Don't tell anyone around here, but I'm a Red Sox fan too. Most people around here are Mariner fans, but I'm staying in the closet, if you get my meaning."

"Gotcha ... your secret is safe with me," I laughed. 

Without thinking, I handed Mel my camera and asked him to take our picture. I wanted Tish to be showing off her ring. This time, there was less hesitation on her part. She was smiling as her father took several pictures of us in what I could only describe as loving poses. It reminded me that I needed to resolve what caused her earlier reaction to my photo taking. 

It was a great weekend. I guess Tish had paved the way for me, making me out to be some kind of saint or whatever. Her parents accepted me and Saturday night, her dad and I spent a lot of time talking politics and such. I got the impression he was pretty disillusioned with the current system and I can't say I blamed him. We both agreed there had to be a better way to run the country. 

We left for the long drive home just after lunch on Sunday. We made a pit-stop for a light meal in Baker City and then made the last leg to Little River. We arrived at my house just after 9:00 pm. During the drive I remembered the pictures and I wanted to know what her reaction was all about.

"Tish ... when we were up at Rocky Point, you were very uncomfortable when I took your picture. What caused that?"

She was silent for a while, but then turned to me.

"There's something else I haven't told you, Ozzie. Something about my past. Something I'm not very proud of," she began.

I looked at her briefly and could see the worry written on her face. I waited silently for her to continue.

"I told you I was a bit wild in my early college days. I was having a good time being popular and like I said before, some of the guys took advantage of me. One time, I got involved in ... in a sex party." She was cringing, waiting for my reaction.

"It was ... terrible ... but I was a full participant. I won't make any excuses. I behaved like a slut." Her head was bowed and she couldn't look at me.

"But ... how does that relate to the camera ... the pictures?"

"One of the guys was taking pictures. I'd had a few drinks and I guess I never really paid any attention to him. A couple of days later, I got an envelope in the mail with some pictures of me at the party. They were pretty ... raw. I was ashamed of myself. There wasn't any note with them. Just the pictures. I didn't know what to do."

I felt my hands tightening on the steering wheel. My guts were churning as she told her story.

"I was a wreck. I went to Julie and Tommie and told them what had happened. I told them who was at the party. I showed them the pictures. I know they were horrified, but they said they would try and help."

"Is that when you guys first met?" I asked.

"Pretty much. They were friendly and I didn't know anyone else that I could trust. They were my only hope," she said, still unable to look at me.

"And?"

"They did. Somehow, they got the guys to admit they had the pictures and they threatened them with turning them into the campus police and telling them what was going on and who was involved. I guess one or two of the guys panicked and handed over the rest of the pictures. They also admitted that someone had put something in my drink. They wouldn't say who or what it was, but they didn't want the police to get involved."

"So ... you were drugged?"

"I think so. I was pretty reckless, Ozzie, but I never thought I would do anything like I did that night. I was sick to my stomach when I remembered it the next morning."

"Yeah ... I can imagine," I said absently.

"Do you hate me now? Is it over for us?" She looked terrified.

"No ... no Tish ... I don't hate you. I love you. Whatever happened then, that isn't the Leticia Darling I fell in love with. I love the woman you are now. I'm marrying the woman you are now." I had pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped.

"What happened to you happened over ten years ago. If anything was going to come back and haunt you, it would have shown up by now. On top of that, you have two very good friends that helped you when you most needed it. We're very lucky in this life if we can have just a couple of friends like Julie and Tommie.

"I don't want you to think about that night again. It's behind you. I'm going to be taking ten thousand pictures of my beautiful Tish. You'll just have to get used to it," I smiled tenderly.

She undid her seatbelt and slid toward me. I held her in my arms and then we were kissing. I could feel the trembling subside and after a few minutes, we broke.

"Tish ... I don't want you to beat yourself up about this. As far as you and I are concerned, it happened in the past, before we met. You won't have to worry about it coming back to haunt you from me. I love you and nothing is going to change that," I said in as firm a voice as I could without frightening her.

She nodded silently, tears streaking her cheeks. I felt my stomach muscles unclench and I began to breathe a bit more normally. In a few moments, I started the car and we resumed our homeward trip.

Tish slept for the last couple of hours and I kept glancing over at her, telling myself that she was mine and I wasn't dreaming all this. Despite her confession and my shock with the revelation of her youth, it hadn't changed anything. I loved her and that was that. The acceptance by her parents was just the icing on the cake. My life couldn't be better.

Now, just because things were going so well, didn't mean there weren't any complications. No, my world doesn't revolve that way; at least not lately. On the Tuesday after we got back from Spokane, I got a call from Sheriff Carbutt asking me if I would be able to meet with him on Wednesday evening around eight pm. I told him sure, but asked what the meeting was about. He seemed reluctant to tell me much, but indicated it was nothing bad or threatening to our wedding.

So, at eight the next night, I arrived at the Little River Golf and Country Club and looked for the Rapids Room. I found it and stepped inside to find Sheriff Carbutt and several other men, all seated at a round table. I could see that one of the men was Ernie and I immediately wondered if this had anything to do with the army.

They stood as I entered and I went around the table as I was introduced. The sheriff and Ernie just stood and watched as I met four men I had only a passing acquaintance with. One was a real estate broker, another a banker, the other two owned businesses in Little River. The last man was a well-dressed man in his early fifties, I thought. He was very distinguished looking and seemed out of place in our little town.

"Ozzie," Sheriff Carbutt said, I'd like you to meet Elijah Mellor. Mr. Mellor is from Sacramento."

We shook hands, but I'm sure my mouth must have been open and a look of shock on my face. I knew his name. It had been one of the ones I had 'Googled' when I first had the little radio. He was smiling and didn't seem the least put out by my show of surprise. 

"I gather you recognize me, or at least my name," he said in a kindly, mellow voice.

"Yes ... yes I do. You're about to run for office, if I remember right," I managed.

"That's right. California State Senate," he smiled.

"You're a builder and a philanthropist?" I tried again.

"Very good. You are very well informed. How do you know so much about me?" he asked evenly.

"Uhmmm ... I guess I saw it in the paper ... or something," I mumbled. 

Mellor's eyebrows rose in interest, but he didn't quiz me any further. The sheriff offered me a drink and I chose a coffee. I suspected I was going to need my wits about me tonight. One too many coincidences for my liking. I decided to let them do the talking and took an open seat beside Ernie. He just smiled that relaxed smile of his. It helped a bit.

"I know you're curious why we asked you here tonight, Ozzie," the sheriff began. I'll try and make this short. All these gentlemen around this table belong to an organization called the League of Independents. It's an association formed to promote the nomination and election of independent candidates throughout the U.S.A. 

"I know from talking to your friends that you, like us, are pretty fed up with the partisan politics that seems to put party ahead of anything else. I know I am and so are all the gentlemen around this table. Our ambition is to find suitable candidates to run for office at the county, state and federal level as independents. Candidates who are beholden to no one but their own ideals and their constituents. 

"I think if we'd tried this ten or twenty years ago, we would have fallen flat on our faces. The country wasn't ready for it. But things have changed and we can thank the more recent administrations for that. Neither party can agree on the sun coming up in the morning, much less on important legislation. We get a hell of a lot of finger pointing, but not much action. Everyone is out for themselves.

"It may come as a surprise, but the country is more ready for change than most people realize. The ordinary people are just as fed up with the current system as anyone, but there hasn't been an alternative. That's where we come in. We are the alternative. 

"The most important thing we can do to make our group successful is to find good candidates. I mean good, moral, upstanding citizens; men and women. People who don't owe favors to anyone or any party. Mr. Mellor, here is a good example. He's a successful builder who truly believes in providing homes for the homeless. He uses his own money to back that up." 

The sheriff stopped for a moment and I was sorely tempted to ask some questions, but I chose instead to remain mute. 

"There's another factor that is going to make our organization unique. We aren't trying to win the next general election. We know that we will have to make inroads at all levels of government and it could take fifteen or twenty years to have a significant impact. But if we do nothing, then nothing will be done. Someone has to shout it from the rooftops. Someone has to tell the people that the emperor has no clothes."

I didn't have to be a genius to see where this was headed. I had been invited to this meeting because they wanted me to join their League. They were recruiting people just the way Snipe was recruiting people for his army. As sympathetic to their ideals as I might be, one organization was enough for me. I had agreed to work with Snipe first and that's where my obligation lay.




Radio Days Pt. 04



At that point, I was about to say something when Ernie spoke up.

"Oz, this organization is a silent army," he began. That got my attention. "It's about change and the slow, steady progression toward making things better. There are no quick fixes for what's wrong with this country; not to mention most of the industrialized world. It's going to take an army of people, one step at a time, pushing for change and being willing to accept small, incremental improvements instead of quantum leaps. It's the only way it will work," he concluded.

I nodded, and smiled a bit at my "partner." I was beginning to get a different picture. This was part of my new world. It was an organization within an organization. Not subversive, and certainly not high-profile. Clever, but a bit complicated in my opinion.

Elijah Mellor cleared his throat and spoke.

"Mr. Hanswatter, we asked you here tonight because we would like you to run for office as an independent. The office we have in mind is County Commissioner. It is a stepping stone to bigger things in the future, if that's what you want. But for the time being, it's an important first step in moving ahead our agenda for change."

My head was spinning again. They didn't just want me to join their little group. They wanted me to run for office. They must be nuts!

"What makes you think I could get elected?" I asked pointedly. 

"Like most parties, we've done some fairly sophisticated polling. The people of this county are pretty much split 51-49, you pick which party. There is no solid majority available to either of them. More importantly, our polling shows that the likeability factor of either candidate is in the basement. In other words, our fellow citizens are holding their noses and voting for people they personally dislike. That accounts for the low turn-out. Something I think the incumbent almost counts on.

"We believe, and our polling supports this, that a strong, likeable, honest candidate could not only win, but could possibly achieve a majority over both the old-line parties. The time is right and, in our opinion, the best candidate for that position is you."

I sat there stunned. At some point, I realized my mouth was open and I snapped it shut. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Well, almost nothing.

"I hope you don't expect an answer tonight," I croaked.

"No ... of course not. I'm sure you will want to discuss this with you fiancée and perhaps some close friends," Mellor said, looking directly at Ernie. I was sure I saw Ernie nod slightly. 

"I guess you realize I had no idea that this is what you wanted to talk to me about," I suggested.

"Of course. Sheriff Carbutt and Mr. Gent made it clear that you have been experiencing quite a few dramatic changes in your life lately," he smiled. "Take all the time you need. The election is over a year away. Plenty of time to prepare." He seemed pretty sure of himself, I thought. Another thought popped into my head.

"What about fund-raising. I can't afford to campaign on my own," I said.

"That's the one thing you won't have to worry about. You will be sponsored by DMH. Win or lose, you will be at no financial risk and there will be no one you will be indebted to," Mellor said evenly.

"What makes you think I'm the right guy? The guy the public will relate to," I asked.

"We've talked to the people in this county. We've asked about you among a lot of your fellow citizens. We keep coming up with the same answer. The people who know you or who know about you, trust and like you. Considering the negative connotation of your job description, that is a remarkable achievement."

"Nobody likes a tax man, or the guy that tells the tax man how much to collect," I smirked.

"No ... quite right. But ... you seem to have preserved your reputation quite well considering the circumstances," Mellor said with a smile. "Even so, you still represent the kind of person we want in our League."

"I'm flattered ... really. I'm also having trouble grasping this. It is a complete surprise and I need some time to digest it and consider my answer. Who should I talk to when I reach my decision?"

"Mr. Gent or Sheriff Carbutt. Either one or both." He reached in his pocket and withdrew a business card. "I can be reached at either of these numbers. Please feel free to call me if you have any questions or doubts," he said in that mellow, cultured voice.

"Thank you. Is that it?" I asked.

Sheriff Carbutt laughed. "Yeah ... that's it. Help yourself to a beer if you'd like. Plenty of time to chew the fat if you want."

"No ... no thanks. I think I have quite enough to think about right now." 

I turned to Ernie. "We need to talk," I said and began to move toward the door. Ernie followed me out. 

As we walked through the lobby toward the entrance I turned to Ernie.

"Is this all part of the deal?"

"Yeah ... it's all part of what Snipe talked about. You can't do everything yourself, Oz. You need help from the right people. These people are the right people. You can trust them."

We stepped out into the cool evening air. I took a deep breath and turned again to Ernie. 

"Ernie, I'm on overload. With Tish and the wedding and the army, I don't know whether I'm afoot or horseback," I admitted.

Ernie smiled and chuckled. "Can't say I blame you. It's a lot to absorb all at one time. Don't sweat it, Oz. If you decide to run, I'll be your campaign manager and Felix Bindle will supply the funds to run a modest, but successful campaign. I've already got a line-up of volunteers to help with the posters and brochures and the usual stump meetings."

"You've got this all figured out, haven't you," I said with a rueful look. "I'm really not going to get a chance to say no, am I."

"Not if I can help it," he laughed.

"And I thought you were my friend," I groused.

"Oz, I don't have a doubt in my mind that you are the right guy for this job. I like you and more importantly, I trust you. You will do the right thing, whatever that is. I won't put any pressure on you other than to tell you that you'd be a big disappointment if you didn't go for this opportunity," he smiled.

"Yeah ... no pressure huh! Right! Thanks, partner," I moaned. 

We walked out toward the parking lot, not saying anything at that point. When we got to Ernie's car we stopped and I looked at him. 

"If I'm going to run for office, there's something you should know. Something that might jump up and bite us," I said seriously.

Ernie looked at me carefully, concerned.

I told him what Tish had told me about the party at college and leaving out the explicit parts, let him know that someone with an ulterior motive might bring that to the surface during a campaign. Our opposition didn't think twice about slinging mud and this was mud of the thickest and darkest variety.

Ernie listened, nodded, understanding my concern. "Leave it with me," he said. "I'll let you know if I think there's a potential problem." And that was all he said.

We stood there by his car silently for a few moments before I turned to him.

"Is this really the right thing for me?" I asked again.

"Yeah, Oz. It really is. Maybe Tish won't think so, but we won't know that until you talk to her about it. My bet is she'll support you because it's something you believe in. If you don't ... then ... you shouldn't do it."

I nodded my head. That's what it all boiled down to. Did I believe in it and did I think I could make a difference. One small step at a time, I remembered. Was this my first one small step?"

"Good night, Ernie. I'll call you after I've talked to Tish."

He gave me the thumbs up and slipped into his car. I walked a few paces to mine and prepared to drive home. In fact, I didn't move for several minutes. I was going over the meeting and what the sheriff and Elijah Mellor and Ernie had said. Mellor was their senior in the organization, that much was certain. The sheriff was a member too, which really surprised me. I don't know exactly why.

Ernie, of course, was my 'partner' and so it was no surprise when I realized this group fit the plans of our alien visitors. I just hoped I wasn't about to make a huge mistake. At last, I started the car and drove home. 

It was just after nine that evening when I arrived home and I was surprised to see Tish sitting on my front steps, obviously waiting for me. I had told her about the meeting, but I didn't know what it was about, so she was just as much in the dark as I was when I walked into the clubhouse. Or so I thought.

"Hi ... what's a pretty girl like you do hanging out in a neighborhood like this?"

"You never know. I might meet an interesting guy. Your neighbor, for instance," she said, indicating the house across the street.

"Ah ... Mr. Studley," I said with a note of distain.

"He's very charming," she teased.

"He's very smarmy," I shot back. "You should be careful of your virtue around him," I warned.

"What if I don't have any virtue?" 

I was stuck for an answer. I wasn't at my best with the happy little shots we liked to fire at each other. The meeting had occupied my mind and I wasn't ready for the quick wit of my lovely woman.

"You've been warned," I finally managed. I'm sure it didn't sound very funny to Tish and I knew it as soon as I said it. I held out my hands to her and she took them as I helped her up. A nice long kiss soon soothed the situation. Take that, Mr. Studley. She's mine.

Tish took up her usual place in the living room and I poured her a white wine while I opened an ale for myself. I plunked myself down beside her and breathed a sigh of ... relief? I turned to Tish and she was watching me carefully. She brought her hand up and her fingers delicately stroked my temple and cheek. It felt good. Very good.

"Are you going to tell me about the meeting?" she finally asked.

"I dunno. I'm not sure I'm ready to," I admitted.

"Why. Just because a few guys ask you to run for office?"

My head whipped around and I stared at her. "How? ... Who? ...." I gave up at that point and just shook my head. Women! Are they really mind readers? 

"Pearl told me. She said you'd have trouble trying to tell me."

"Smart lady. It was a set-up. An ambush. They want me to run for County Commissioner ... or did you already know that?" 

"Uh huh," she grinned.

"They seem to think I can win."

"Uh huh." More grinning.

"They even have funding and volunteers for the campaign."

"Uh huh." Almost laughing now.

"Is there anything you don't know?"

"Only ... are you going to say yes or am I going to have to make you say yes?"

"Oh shit. I don't have a choice, do I."

"Not if you want to marry me. Remember, there's a worldwide shortage of white knights and you're one of them. I expect you to do your duty," she said seductively.

"Are you serious, Tish? This isn't some game. I'll be risking my job and my future in Little River.

"Ozzie, you are so modest, it sometimes makes me angry. I don't have any doubt you will win the election. The people in this town are going to eat you up. They are going to love you, just like I do. Ernie is so sure you are going to win, he's almost ready to start your state legislature campaign." Tish had a death-grip on my neck and her lovely scent was driving me crazy. 

"Ernie's an optimist," I said. And when I did, I remembered Snipe's comment to me. They wanted optimists. They wanted people who expected to win at whatever they chose to do. I didn't feel like an optimist right then. I didn't have that sense of confidence that would make me feel like a winner. Maybe they hadn't chosen so wisely after all.

Tish stayed over that night. She had a stash of clothes and supplies that meant we didn't have to keep running back and forth to the Timely's. It was only a matter of time before I would convince her to move in with me.

Ernie called me a couple of days later.

"It won't be a problem," he said cryptically. "I know who was involved and I know they don't want it to see the light of day any more than you and Tish do. You can forget about it as of now."

"How can you be so sure and how did you find out so quickly?" I demanded.

"Let's just say Tish has some very good friends who would do anything to help her. They knew and they told me. I took it from there," he said simply.

And that was that.

The wedding was set for ... you won't believe this ... October 31st ... Halloween! The reasons were simple. It was when both the hall and the church were available. It gave us plenty of time to make sure Tish's divorce was final and allow us to get a license. It took some doing to make sure everyone was available, but we accomplished that as well.

Tish finally succumbed and moved in with me in early September. I used a devious ploy of suggesting, subtly of course, that maybe Julia and Gil would like their privacy back. I don't know if that was the only impetus, but it worked. It turned out Tish had a bunch of things in storage in Blanchford and we arranged to have them delivered to our house. You'll notice I said "our house." That's how I thought of it now.

We got around to having that super-serious talk every about-to-be-married couple is supposed to have. It really wasn't much of a discussion. We both agreed that we wanted children. Two seemed to be the ideal number, but we would be grateful for however many we were blessed with.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Ernie was my best man and Julia was Maid of Honor. When Mel walked his daughter down the isle, there couldn't have been a dry eye in the house. I know mine weren't. She was wearing this lovely mint green full-length gown and she looked fabulous. Mel gave me a big wink as he walked her up to the altar and then pulled the leg of his trouser up enough to reveal bright red socks. Good on you, Mel.

The reception was a hoot. Maybe we should have made it a costume reception because everybody was in a fun mood. Halloween does that to adults just as much as kids. Tish and I finally snuck away about ten and headed to the Inn on the River for our wedding night. The next morning, we drove to the Pocatello airport and our honeymoon in Hawaii. It was the best two weeks either of us had ever had in our lives and we didn't want it to end. 

Tish wanted to continue working and was in discussions with Dickie Bird on how she could do that and still have a family. Dickie was a pretty smart cookie and recognizing the value of Tish, went out of his way to tailor her work so that when the time came, she could operate a work station at home. It was just a matter of installing some security procedures. 

I had a long talk with Milo Selwind, my boss, and told him about the possibility of my running for office next year. He was amazingly supportive as well. I'm not sure he wasn't in on it from the beginning, but he was sure we could bring in an understudy and have him trained by the time my campaign would start, and take over if and when I was elected. Milo seemed to think my election was a "done deal." 

When you've got that many people supporting you and paving the way for you, how the hell can you say no? You can't. I didn't. In fact, the idea was growing on me and I decided to arrange some meetings with Rowdy Carbutt and Ernie to discuss ideas and policy. We might as well find out if there are any conflicts early on in the game before I stuck my neck out.

Rowdy was a real revelation. I had mistakenly pegged him as a small town sheriff who had served the community so well that his election was just a matter of course. He had been unopposed in the past six or seven elections that I could recall and you would think that he might be a bit jaded. Not the case at all.

Rowdy was a real good thinker and had his fingers on the pulse of our county like no one else. He was a storehouse of information and I was delighted to tap it. He knew where all the skeletons were buried, including the ones associated with my two expected opponents. 

Early on we talked about what kind of campaign we should run and I was insistent that I didn't want to engage in any mudslinging. I got no argument from Ernie or Rowdy and in fact, they were just as committed as I was to taking the high road and sticking to our message. In the back of my mind I wondered if that commitment would be tested in the months to come.

We decided to announce my candidacy late rather than early. As expected, the incumbent and an old warhorse from the "other party" announced early in the New Year and we were sure they thought it would be a simple two-party fight. They couldn't wait to sling dirt at each other so they didn't. We just sat back and smiled as they forgot about what their duties and objectives were supposed to be and took regular pot-shots at each other.

We announced one day before the closing of nominations. Naturally, we had all the paperwork in place and quietly filed our forms. There was no newspaper reporter or TV crew on hand. Time enough for that later. 

I won't go into all the details of the campaign, but ours ran like clockwork. Our opponents virtually ignored me for the first month until the polls began to show, and then the fun began. They must have been desperate to find something they could use against me, but the best they could manage was that I didn't have any political experience. They soon found out that the voters thought that was a plus, not a minus. 

We stuck to our message and kept the debate within the framework of the county's needs and ambitions. I appeared at all the all-candidates meetings and watched as my opponents flailed and thrashed about, trying to find something to discredit our campaign. 

I don't know how many meetings I attended with the D.A.R., School Board, League of Women Voters, Veterans of Foreign Wars, Chamber of Commerce and others I can't even remember. My strategy was simple. Listen. Find out what was important to them and see where the common ground was. I wasn't big on making promises, particularly ones I knew I couldn't keep. 

I was as honest as I could be, even if it wasn't what all of them wanted to hear. All the while, Tish was with me at every meeting and every strategy session. She was as big a part of my campaign as anyone. Not bad considering she was seven months pregnant with our first child.

We won. We won big. A forty six percent victory, with the other two split almost evenly at twenty eight for the incumbent and twenty six for the other. Ernie and Rowdy had called it and that's exactly what happened. 

Charles Melnor Hanswatter was born on December 1st at Little River Hospital. He had the decency to wait until nearly nine am, giving his mother a chance to get up and have me drive her to the hospital. Melnor was my father's name and I was delighted to be able to bestow it upon our son. Mel was just as proud as he could be and both parents were ecstatic with their first grandchild.

I'm getting settled into my new job and I think I'm going to enjoy it. I'd like to think I'm a common sense kind of guy, but then, as Voltaire said a long time ago, "Common sense is not so common." A lot of my fellow citizens come to see me about one problem or another and it's my job to steer them in the right direction, even if I don't think there's anything we can do.

I didn't forget about Martha, my ex-wife. It might have been an attack of conscience or maybe just a feeling of compassion, I'm not sure. I thought about talking to her, but I knew that wouldn't be a good idea. I was pretty sure she'd figured out that she'd picked the wrong horse in Burk. Too late now, she was committed. 

I sent her an anonymous typed note suggesting that the law was having a careful look at the goings-on at the County zoning Office. I mentioned Carlton Shambles as being a suspect and left it at that. If she took the hint, she might get away with being a "found-in." Otherwise, I had done my duty. Carlton, of course, was dead meat.




Radio Days Pt. 04



I've got a lot of really good people to look after the day-to-day problems. I enjoy having contact with my fellow constituents. They tell me what's really going on in the county. I think being a good listener is my strength and it seems to go down well with the people.

Mel and I and a few other closet Red Sox fans got together last October to watch them win their first World Series in what seemed like a hundred years. Sheriff Rowdy turned out to be one of "us" as well as Dickie Bird. We are not alone in the Red Sox nation. 

Tish, strangely, loves hockey. Ice hockey. She's a Calgary Flames fan and when I got satellite TV, she made sure she had the Calgary feed for all their games. Luckily, baseball and hockey seasons don't have much overlap. She does give me time in the penalty box if I've done something wrong (in her mind). So far, in our year-and-a-half marriage, I haven't gotten five for fighting. I hear we'll be going up to Calgary for a game or two next season. If Tish says so, it must be so. In the meantime, body-checks are frequent and welcome.

I know throughout this story I talked about Uncle Darby's "puzzle." You might well ask yourself how this ties in with what I learned. He was convinced the little radio would pique my curiosity and he was right. I don't know how he knew how I would react. It wouldn't have been that much of a leap for me to use it to win a lottery and take the money and run. Was he sure I wouldn't? We'll never know, but that's what it looks like.

I'm certain that Uncle Darby knew everything that I now know. Felix pretty much confirmed that when I cornered him at the wedding reception. So, was he testing me to see if I was right for their army or was he just having some fun with a nephew he genuinely liked. I'm sure it was the former, but again, I'll never know for sure. How about that, a family mystery. I love it!

Ernie is already talking about the timing of a run for the State legislature, but I'm in no hurry. I've got a beautiful young wife, a new son and a great job. Right now, my main objective is to learn to do this job really well. After that, maybe another child, and then ... we'll see. If you were expecting a happy ending, well, this is a pretty good start, don't you think?

The End

My thanks, as always, to the redoubtable ErikThread for his editing skills and helpful advice. Any errors or omissions are mine.