I have been writing, and I'm getting to the climax of the novel now.  Soon, someone will get murdered. 

After the phone call from Verna, Ida Mae sat in the darkness of her dingy apartment, almost in shock, at the dizzying array of questions she had mostly avoided answering.  But one thing was clear, there was money involved, and it could be a substantial amount of money.  It would be something if Ida Mae no longer had to work so hard for what she got.  Of course, Verna really had no idea what she was talking about; that had been apparent all through the conversation. 

The shock was that Chase was being paid $80.00 a month for his silence.  Why was he the only one being paid?  Why wouldn't Jack Mooney, of all people, pay Ida Mae for her silence?  True, she was paid for various jobs she did around town; most notably, the bus station surveillance, but that was a paltry sum compared to what Chase was getting.  Maybe Verna was lying about the amount, but there wasn't any indication of that in her voice.  And why would she lie about it?  Verna's interest had been to team up with Ida Mae to force the police chief to pay more. 

And Verna, still not satisfied with Ida Mae's responses to her queries, could only gnash her teeth and wonder what else she could do.  What rock could she overturn now and peer beneath?  In fact, she had gnashed her teeth since childhood.  In cases of extreme anxiety or anger, she even foamed at the mouth.  But the dentist warned her that she was even gritting her teeth at night, while she slept, a dangerous thing to do, he told her, as eventually, it would grind off the enamel from her teeth.  A very dangerous situation, indeed.

Oops!  There I go again, I'm so involved now in this book that I am always mentally writing.  If I can't find a publisher, this time I just might use this blog to publish.  The weather is wintery, the dogs go in and out, the chicken longs for sunshine and probably companionship, I cook and clean house, the clock ticks on and on.  I try to look at my seed catalogs, but I'm not interested just yet.  I did receive some books I had ordered in the mail.  They came this morning; the postlady brought my mail right up to the house and laid on her horn.  The dogs went nuts and I, who had, for once, decided to stay in bed and rest today, had to go out there in my bathrobe to fetch in the package.  She always catches me napping.  The only other time she brought the mail right to my door; same thing.  She must think I'm a slug.