Are you sure you don't want me to wait?
While you run up the meter?
Good night, sweet prince.
It's always the little mistakes
that catch you up short in life.
Just when you think your life is running along smoothly,
everything in place, the little mistakes start happening.
Like you cut yourself shaving and bleed all over your shirt.
Or you lose your car keys and you're 20 minutes late
to a date you've really been looking forward to.
Or, you overlook a tiny, little notice that comes in the mail,
and wake up one morning to discover
your private investigator's license has expired.
Little mistakes.
That'll be $2.50.
Can I help somebody over here?
Ow!
What are you doing to my dog?
Me? Nothing.
Well, why don't you pick on someone your own size?
Come along, Bruno.
Sorry, I'm closed. You'll have to go to the other window.
What? Wait.
Hey, no line crashing.
I've been here awhile.
Are you here to get your marriage license?
No.
We are.
Oh, congratulations.
And I've only got 12 hours shore leave. I didn't know that.
That's why I don't appreciate line crashers.
Well, I'm sure they'll just rush you right through.
See, Herbie, I told you there's nothing to it.
There better not be.
Hey, you think you could hurry it up, up there?
Jonathan, I can't hold the ladies off much longer.
What am I going to do without a Robert Browning?
I must say in all honesty that this is atypical behavior.
Unless, Jonathan, you... Which, you may recall, I warned you about
when you approached Magnum in the first place.
It does seem to have a certain poetic symmetry about it.
Me as Miss Barrett, you as Mr. Browning.
What on earth are you talking about?
You could take Mr. Magnum's place
as our guest reader.
Well, Agatha, naturally, I'd be honored, but I...
Oh, Jonathan.
I knew you wouldn't let me down.
I'm certain Magnum will be here any minute.
Oh, baby, I just can't wait to be Mrs. Herbie Fosdick.
Me, too, Sugar. Me, too.
You wanna keep this line moving?
Hi, look, I've got a little problem.
A slight oversight on my part.
Your license has expired.
Yeah, I know, I was wondering if...
Fill out this application. Bring it back with two character references,
Hawaii residents only.
You can take the written exam next week. Next week?
If you pass that, we'll set up the interview.
Next. No. Wait.
You don't understand... I understand your license has expired.
Yes, but... And that there are other people in line.
Yes, I always get my new license by the mail.
That's if you sent in your money before it expired.
But I have the money, look whatever it takes.
If there's a fine, or other expenses...
Are you trying to bribe me?
No. Well, you slime.
Trying to bribe a government official.
No, I'm not.
Oh, now come on, I don't want to fight you.
Come on now, lady.
"I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
"with my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
"smiles and tears of all my life,
"and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."
"That second time they hunted me, from hill to plain,
"from shore to sea..."
Excuse me, Agatha.
Oh, dear.
You're just lucky I happened to be in the building. Here sign.
Whatever possessed you to start a fight in a government building?
I didn't start it. This...
That's a long story.
What were you doing there, anyway?
Getting my fishing license renewed.
What were you doing there?
Visiting a friend. Thanks, again, Lieutenant.
Hey, hey, you don't want to forget this.
Your application form.
You wouldn't plan on practicing without a license, would you, now?
Of course not.
Thanks.
Okay, so I was going to have to spend a few days
getting my license restored.
It wasn't the worst thing that could have happened.
And getting a couple of character references would be easy.
I knew Rick and T.C. Or Higgins would come through for me.
Or Carol.
At least I didn't really have anything else
I had to do at the moment.
Magnum, how could you? What?
No need for a reprimand, Jonathan.
I can see why Mr. Magnum would forget the reading,
what with all the excitement and everything.
The reading? Robert Browning.
You offered to read Robert Browning
for the Anglo-Hawaiian Society
for the Preservation of the English Language.
I sent the book over.
You wanted me to read it? I thought you just wanted me to read it.
You know, not out loud.
Why didn't you tell anyone? What was there to tell?
It's a simple misunderstanding.
I have nothing prepared. No special menus lined up.
No flowers in the guest bedroom.
What are you talking about? What's going on?
Why, the arrival of Miss Sullivan. Of course.
Miss Sullivan? Pulitzer Prize winning playwright,
Miss Phoebe Sullivan,
who's making some ridiculous claim about being...
My Aunt Phoebe? Tommy?
Aunt Phoebe!
Mr. Higgins, there's another long distance call for Miss Sullivan.
Oh, you haven't changed a bit.
A Mr. Hal Prince from New York.
Oh, can't they ever leave me alone?
Who's...
Keo is visiting her sister on Maui.
Lani is from the Niu Valley Temporary Domestic Agency.
Would you be a darling and tell him I have run off
with an astonishingly handsome young man.
And you haven't the slightest idea when I'll return. If ever.
Come along, Tommy. We don't want to make a liar out of your Mr. Higgins.
He's not my Mr. Higgins.
Do you buy those shirts at a regular store? What?
Isn't she wonderful?
Oh, this is the life, isn't it?
The sky, the sand and the sea.
The moon, the stars, we got it all.
Oh, yes.
Why would any woman want to pursue a life of wealth and fame,
when you can lead such a simple, happy life here?
I thought you were in Europe.
Remember when I took you to the Folies Berger?
That's not something you forget.
How old were you? Twelve.
I thought your mother was going to skin me alive.
Well, that wasn't exactly my mom's idea of French culture.
Katherine was always a bit rigid.
That was the best trip I had to Europe. Ever.
You know, I always thought, with your vivid imagination,
you'd end up working for the CIA or the French Foreign Legion.
I even secretly fancied you might follow in my path,
write a famous novel.
You know, some people have been a little worried about you.
No one's heard from you in months.
I needed seclusion. You know how popular I am.
People won't leave me alone.
And I've been working on something very important.
Yeah? I've written a new play.
Well, that's great. That explains the call from Hal Prince.
What?
The guy, the call you just got from New York.
It's going to be a huge success.
I told my agent to make a few calls.
People are already bidding on it, sight unseen.
So you came here to make it harder to reach you
and drive up the price.
Good heavens, no. I came to ask for your help.
Someone is trying to murder me.
Mr. Magnum. Miss Sullivan. Tea is served.
My Aunt Phoebe was the smartest woman I ever knew.
She also had a tendency to see things bigger than life.
Which meant that when you were with her you got to see more vibrant colors,
hear more intriguing sounds, feel things more fully than when she was gone.
But it also meant that you sometimes had to translate
her view of the world into a more mundane reality.
I've never quite got a good look at him,
but I know he's been following me
ever since I got back to New York,
I am convinced he broke into my brownstone last week and then...
Then he tipped his hand.
My secretary gave me a message that I was to meet with George and Nellie.
You remember George and Nellie?
Vaguely. I was to meet with George and Nellie
at the David Garrick Theater at 11:00 that night.
Well, naturally, I didn't think anything about it.
I assumed they were appearing there.
After all, I'd been out of the country.
I don't quite understand how this, "tipped his hand," as you put it.
When I got to the theater, no one was there.
The place was all chained up.
There was never a call from George and Nellie.
And then he showed up.
The man who's been stalking me.
Murder Came Knocking. Yes.
Exactly. And do you remember how that play ended?
With the murder of the attractive, charming, successful,
but somewhat naive Ginny Dockworth.
A character fashioned loosely upon myself. Aunt Phoebe,
you were never somewhat naive.
Well, I know I'm not Ginny Dockworth.
But apparently this madman doesn't.
If what you say is true... It is.
And he has followed me here to Hawaii.
Aunt Phoebe... A car followed my limo
all the way from the airport to your place.
Don't you find that odd? Well, yeah.
Are you sure?
This is his license plate number.
The limo driver wrote it down.
Agatha Chumley. Miss Sullivan, I hope I'm not imposing.
I... Oh, Jonathan. Tea time already?
Yes, please, join us, Agatha.
Oh, no, no. I just popped back with my portfolio.
Miss Sullivan, you and I discussed it earlier.
Oh, yeah.
I haven't had a great deal of professional experience,
Although I did perform in a pantomime
at the Blackpool Music Hall as a child.
Cinderella.
I'm sure you were smashing.
I thought these photos of some of my amateur productions
might give you an idea of my range.
Mr. Dennis Parker.
Phoebe. Darling. Dennis. Dennis Parker.
My God, it's been a million years.
I can't believe it. You're actually here in Honolulu.
But I'm devastated, darling, you didn't ring me.
I only just arrived.
Well, I'm forever indebted to Agatha for letting me know you were here.
Dennis, I'm so sorry.
Have you met my nephew, Tommy Magnum?
Well, hello, Tommy.
I believe we've met. I think Phoebe brought you
to the opening of one of my plays in New York. Yes.
The opening of your only play in New York, I believe, darling.
And you've met Jonathan Higgins.
I'm acquainted with Mr. Parker's work.
And of course you know... Agatha.
I didn't expect to see you, Dennis.
Tea? A splendid idea.
Thank you very much. Oh, yes.
Darling, the drums are beating out a message,
You have a new opus.
How do these things get out so fast?
This was our most recent production of The Mikado.
I know it's hard to tell that's me in the makeup.
Mr. Higgins, a call for Miss Sullivan.
Says he's from the Shubert Organization.
Oh, would you tell them I'm tied up in meetings.
That should up the price right off the bat.
Aunt Phoebe, you can't ask Higgins to take all your messages.
He's not your servant. Well, I'm sorry.
I'm sure he doesn't mind. Not at all.
Incidentally, Miss Sullivan, on behalf of Mr. Masters,
I'd like to extend the invitation for you to stay with us
as long as you like. Thank you.
Phoebe, I've just had the most incredible idea. This was a few years ago. The musical, Oliver!
Well, let's put them on the piano.
"Don't make any deals until you've spoken to me. Joe Papp."
Wouldn't you think they could make attractive arrangements
when they grow such beautiful flowers here.
Darling, listen,
I have an idea. Why don't you premiere your new opus here.
Oh, Denny, what a quaint idea.
Darling, I'm serious. Listen, I'm guest director of the Hawaii Theater Center.
You've no doubt heard of it.
And this is A Streetcar Named Desire.
I played Blanche.
I'd love to talk to you about it, darling.
But my nephew and I have some urgent business to attend to right now.
You do understand? Well, look, darling. Here, take my card
at least, will you? And drop by.
Well, Agatha.
And Tommy. Thomas.
Of course, Thomas. Well, cheerio.
Well, can you find this man who is planning to murder me.
"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
How could you let your license expire? It just slipped my mind.
Well, going to the bank, slips your mind.
Writing home, slips your mind.
Renewing your private investigator's license
does not slip your mind.
T. C., you're making a big deal out of a very little mistake.
It doesn't do any good to go on and on and on about it.
What I need right now is a reference.
I need a recommendation from somebody like you.
An upstanding citizen, a pillar of the community.
So, how come you didn't ask me to do it?
I was going to, Rick,
but you've done so many nice things for me lately.
Yeah, okay, okay, okay, what am I supposed to say?
What you honestly feel.
Well, you know what those examiners like to see.
Like, how you're the kind of guy that always pays his debts.
Yeah, something like that.
The kind of guy who would never drag a citizen into a dangerous situation.
Not unless it's absolutely necessary.
The kind of guy who would never use his friends,
who are not licensed private investigators to do all of his footwork.
I don't do that.
Hey, I got a make on that license plate.
DBO 527 is registered to Ace One Car Rental agency. Thanks, Rick.
T.C. All right, all right, all right. I'll do it.
But you're gonna have to give me a couple of days.
This is going to take some very creative writing.
Thanks, T.C.
You know I can't give any information like that.
Look, all I need is the name of a guy
who rented a car with the license plate DBO 527.
Are you a cop?
No. I'm a private investigator. Here's my card.
Everybody's a private investigator.
This license is expired. Well, yeah, I know. The new one's in the mail.
See, I have a client and he rented that car
last week and he thinks he left something valuable in it.
What's your client's name?
I can't tell you that, client confidentiality.
I'm very busy here, Mr. Magnum.
I'm sorry. I can't help you.
Mr. Masters' estate.
Hi, Higgins.
Oh, Magnum. It's you.
Could I talk to Aunt Phoebe?
No, you can't, hold on.
Robin Masters' estate, please hold.
I'm afraid I can't help you, Magnum.
Oh, come on, Higgins. She'll talk to me. I'm not some famous producer.
Be that as it may, you can't talk to her. She isn't here.
Where is she? I haven't the slightest idea.
After she finished giving orders about rearranging the furniture
in the living room, the study and her room,
and completely changing the week's menus with the cook,
she informed me that she was borrowing my car to go visit a friend.
Higgins, how could you let her leave?
What if what she said about somebody following her is true?
Did you ever try giving advice to your Aunt Phoebe?
How long do you think she'll be gracing us with her presence?
Oh, that's hard to say.
She's been known to stay a month or two if she likes the company.
A month?
Or two. And so far she seems to be having a great time.
Oh, my God.
LANl: Robin Master's Estate...
What the hell are you doing, lady?
Back up! Come on, move it!
What are you doing? You can't park there.
Move back the other way!
Come on, lady. Move that car!
Come on, lady, I'm late for work! Back up!
Oh, brother! Hey, where are you going?
Shut the door! Can't park there!
Hey!
Come on, get back in the car and move it, will you?
What's the matter with you? Come on.
Coming.
Hello. Yes, she's staying here, but she's out at the moment.
I'll be right there.
Oh, Sully. You're here.
Are you okay? Did I call you Sully?
Yeah.
Well, there is a strong family resemblance.
Anyone ever tell you you look like your Uncle Sully?
They used to. It doesn't matter how long someone's gone,
you still miss them like they just left yesterday.
What happened?
I stopped at a theater.
I guess it must have been the wrong one.
Mr. Magnum.
We've notified the police.
Apparently, she was mugged and knocked down.
Now physically, she's all right.
Just a few contusions, but she seems a little disoriented.
Thanks.
He stole my play.
The man who's been following me.
He wasn't planning to murder me.
He wanted to steal my play.
I told you the dresser is to go against the wall
and my bed is supposed to be by the window.
I can't write unless my bed is by the window.
But that's where I moved it before and you said...
That's all right, Lani. I'll take care of it.
Oh, sometimes I despair if we'll ever get this place fixed up right.
Who were you going to see?
What do you mean? When?
When you got lost. When you got mugged.
You told Higgins you were going to see a friend.
Oh.
Dennis, I suppose.
You suppose? Dennis. I was going to see Dennis.
Good heavens, if this is how you run an investigation,
it's no wonder you're not working for the CIA.
You're supposed to interrogate the suspects not the client.
Sully never liked this side of me.
Crabapple, he called me.
Do you remember, when Murder Came Knocking
opened in New York, and you and I sat up all night at Sardi's
waiting for the reviews to come in?
Dennis Parker thought I was going to fall flat on my face.
But the reviews were all glowing,
except for that one...
Oh, what was his name?
The critic for Act One.
Oh, it was wonderful.
I'll come get you for dinner.
I think I liked it better the other way.
Yes.
Well, perhaps it is a good idea
to shake everything up once in a while
to avoid getting into a rut,
if you see what I mean.
Sounds like something my Aunt Phoebe said.
I trust she's resting comfortably.
I guess.
Let me ask you a hypothetical question.
The kind of question one might find on a private investigator's exam?
Exactly.
Suppose you were a famous composer, for instance,
and you hadn't written any symphonies or operas
or anything like that for several years.
And suppose you told everyone
you'd just finished something really very spectacular,
only you didn't finish it for some reason.
Writer's block, for example? Yeah. Say, writer's block,
you just... You couldn't finish it
and everyone was expecting to see it and there was all this pressure.
What would you do?
There is another way to look at this.
Another hypothetical. Precisely.
Suppose you had been in retirement for some time and you had, indeed,
written something quite... What was the word?
Spectacular. Quite.
But you were afraid it might get lost in the rush of other compositions.
And you knew that with some unusual publicity gimmick
you might get it the attention it so richly deserved.
Hmm.
Or, she could be telling the truth.
I have to assume she is.
I think I'll pay a visit to an old friend with a motive for theft.
Oh, the phones?
Oh, I disconnected them. Temporarily.
It does make it more peaceful somehow.
When I was eight years old,
my Aunt Phoebe took me to see a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.
My mother told her that I was too young.
But Phoebe said you're never too young for Shakespeare.
And she was right.
I loved every minute of it.
After that, once a year, she took me to New York to see a new play.
Some I liked better than others.
And the year Uncle Sully died,
she took me to see the opening of her first play, Murder Comes Knocking.
I watched the play.
But mostly, I watched her watching the play.
And I saw something I hadn't seen much of
up to that point, an absolute love of what she did.
Somehow, I couldn't believe that that woman
would let herself be stopped by writer's block
or stoop to some cheap gimmick to get publicity.
What I could believe
was that someone who had been jealous of her success for years
would do almost anything to keep her from producing another play.
Take five, will you kids?
Well, what are we doing, slumming?
I beg your pardon?
Phoebe sent you down with some cockamamie story
about how she's just too busy to get down to see me,
but we must, dear, have lunch one day real soon.
Phoebe doesn't know I'm here. Oh.
She didn't come to see you this afternoon?
I suppose you were with people who could verify that?
You know, Tommy,
I don't think I appreciate your tone of voice.
Well, I don't think you're gonna appreciate this a whole lot more.
You had one play on Broadway, one success and then oblivion.
Oh, I had a cult following.
While you watched Phoebe have one hit after another.
Cheap commercial theatrics.
Well, you know what I think?
I think you can't stand the idea
of seeing her have one more big success.
That's where you're wrong, Tommy. I don't begrudge Phoebe anything.
Not her success, nor her marriage. Nothing.
Frankly, I don't think this conversation is leading us anywhere.
So, if you'll forgive me, I am rather busy.
Oh, that rental car you're driving.
Is that part of your deal here?
I don't have a rental car.
As a matter of fact, I don't have any car.
You know, Tommy. I just never learned to drive.
All right. Let's pick it up from the top.
Jenny, you be a little bit more downstage,
and please, now, let's pick up the tempo.
I know what you're thinking, and you're right.
Breaking into the Ace One Car Rental Agency,
especially with an expired license,
could be one of those little mistakes that turn into big problems.
On the other hand, at this point I really didn't see what other choice I had.
And sometimes you have to risk those little mistakes
to get the big reward.
Now, all I had to do was figure out what the big reward
was doing following Phoebe,
and if he was the one who had stolen her play.
There was something real familiar about the name Theo Winters.
I knew, I knew who he was,
but I couldn't quite place it.
I was pretty sure Phoebe would know
or at the very least, Higgins.
Yeah. T. C., it's me.
Thomas? Yes.
Does the name Theo Winters mean anything to you?
I can't hear you. Theo Winters.
Does the name Theo Winters mean anything to you?
I'll have that character reference ready
if you want to come by and pick it up.
T. C., I need a little help here.
You sure do. That's why it took me a while to write it.
I'm talking about Theo Winters.
For some reason, that name just sticks out to me.
Does this have anything to do with the case
you're not investigating because your investigator's license ran out?
But I can't quite place it.
Theo Winters. Yeah, you know him?
The name does sound familiar.
T. C?
Wait a minute, let me look.
Sardi's. The night Phoebe's play opened.
Maybe it was the excitement of the night,
maybe Phoebe was just a bit overly dramatic,
but when one critic who didn't like her play
walked into the restaurant,
she dumped her Hungarian goulash on his head.
I ducked under the table as the food fight started in earnest.
And the critic for the theatrical trade paper, Act One,
just stood there,
goulash oozing down his suit.
His name was Theo Winters.
I guess it was crawling underneath the desk
that helped me remember that night.
Which just goes to prove that there really are no little mistakes in life.
On the other hand, Theo Winters
had made a definite little mistake
in using his real name and address when renting a car.
That's if he didn't want to get caught.
Hello, Denny.
Here, take it, take it, it's worthless.
I paid some idiot $50 to steal that thing for me
and it's garbage. It's gibberish.
The great Phoebe Sullivan, she's lost it.
And she's lost her mind.
I'm afraid I made a little mistake.
I underestimated your ability to find me.
Drink, Mr. Magnum?
No.
Is our Mr. Parker all right?
He's explaining a few things to a friend of mine in the police department.
And I suppose I should expect to hear their heavy knock
on my door at any moment.
I assure you that I had nothing to do with the theft.
I will admit that Denny Parker was the first person
I contacted on my arrival,
and when he offered to sell me the manuscript,
I felt, well, it was at least worth examining.
Why are you following my aunt?
Phoebe Sullivan is a public figure.
One of great curiosity to my readers.
When she disappeared a few months ago,
everyone assumed that she had gone in seclusion again to write.
However, I was in Connecticut,
visiting a friend at the Middlebury Clinic,
I bumped into Phoebe in Dr. Gilford's office.
He is one of the foremost experts on Alzheimer's Disease
and related disorders.
Now, it occurred to me that if Phoebe Sullivan
were suffering from... She isn't.
I checked with the records department at Middlebury.
Naturally, they gave me nothing.
And then Phoebe ran.
I pursued her all the way here,
but she's very slippery. I thought I had her yesterday,
but she slipped away before I could talk to her.
She won't even let me get near her.
Well, there's no need. You can go home, Mr. Winters.
There's no story.
If there is one, I'll find out.
And I'll write about it. Why?
Because you're a great writer with a story that has to be told?
Or because you're still nursing a wounded ego
over a 30-year-old plate of Hungarian goulash?
I'd learned not to count on a lot of things in life,
but one thing I could always count on,
in an odd way, was my Aunt Phoebe.
She was unconventional and nobody in my family
could quite understand why staid, solid, Uncle Sully had married her.
But I knew why. He married her because she was exciting
and unpredictable, full of life.
And I knew she always would be.
I still had to believe there was nothing
that could drag my Aunt Phoebe down.
Not as long as there was something I could do about it.
You're home.
What's all this? I'll bet you thought I'd forgotten how to cook.
Well, I had a terrible time finding all the ingredients, but it's your favorite.
Aunt Phoebe, I saw Dennis Parker tonight.
Oh, Sully, please, let's not talk shop.
Not tonight.
Thomas.
I'm afraid I cannot remember what I did with your anniversary present.
I remember buying it and bringing it home.
Aunt Phoebe.
But I haven't seen hide nor hair of it since then.
Maybe Myrtle put it away when she was cleaning up.
Aunt Phoebe.
I've been thinking
we really ought to fix this place up.
Not just redecorate, but really shake down the rafters.
Oh, Sully, did you really think I'd be the kind
to want to put down roots?
I'm not Sully. I'm Thomas.
Who are you?
I'm sorry.
I'm afraid my husband isn't home right now.
Aunt Phoebe.
What happened to your play?
You found it.
Thomas.
You found it.
It isn't very good, is it?
What took me a long time to sort out
was why I was mad at Phoebe.
She hadn't let me down.
Life was letting her down.
And try as I might, I couldn't figure out
what I could do to turn that around for her.
Magnum. The police are here to take a statement from Phoebe.
Apparently, she is gone. So is the Audi.
"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
"such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
"more than cool reason ever comprehends.
"The lunatic, the lover and the poet
"are of imagination all compact.
"The one sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
"that is, the madman.
"The lover, all as frantic, sees Helen's beauty
"in a brow of Egypt.
"The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
"doth glance from heaven to earth,
"from earth to heaven
"and as imagination bodies forth
"the form of things unknown, the poet's pen
"turns them to shapes
"and gives to airy nothing
"a local habitation and a name.
"Such tricks hath strong imagination."
A Midsummer Night's Dream.
I remember.
What a joy it was
for me to see you seeing things for the first time.
Aunt Phoebe... I'm going to go back to New York.
I want you to stay here with me.
I thought that's what I wanted, too.
I tricked myself into thinking I was in danger.
So you'd come riding in on a white horse
and rescue me.
I want to rescue you. I know.
Well, then stay here.
Some days things are so clear,
I think this is all just going to go away.
But it isn't. I need to be around a lot of people
who will keep me thinking and working.
I have that in New York.
My theater family. And a few regular family members, too,
if I can put up with them.
I always did need a lot of distraction.
I'm afraid my life here would get too sedentary.
And I realize now that I needed to see you again.
One more time.
And to let you know how much I love you.
Aunt Phoebe.
And to let you know I'm going to be okay with this.
Really, I am.
And don't judge Dennis too harshly.
Life didn't work out for him
as well as it did for us.
"A revival of Murder Came Knocking
"will be mounted at the newly refurbished David Garrick Theater.
"All of New York society is waiting in keen anticipation
"to see if author Phoebe Sullivan
"will arrive for opening night,
"at which time the theater will be rededicated
"and carry her name."
Jonathan, isn't that wonderful?
Apparently, it was Theo Winters' idea.
"Miss Sullivan, who has gone into seclusion
"to write and reflect, could not be reached for comment."
Oh, incidentally, your renewed investigator's license arrived in the mail.
More tea? No, thanks, Lani.
Keo will be back tomorrow morning.
I think I'll take a walk.
"And as imagination bodies forth
"the form of things unknown, the poet's pen
"turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
"a local habitation and a name."