simpson raised an eyebrow. "if you say so miss." i quickly untied the restraints - knee socks, rather - and carried them to the laundry room. knee socks in august, shit, he didn't believe a word of that.

"i'm giving it up simpson, making us a drink, put on something casual!" i shouted. gosh, i suppose simpson didn't have a stitch of clothing besides his butler outfits, maybe his pj's, but i doubt if he would let me see him in those. hell, we should just go and buy him something casual. after all, we had a credit card that the balance was removed at the end of the month. simpson appeared, and he was an apparition, clad in a long white tee shirt that had "world's best great, great great grandpa" on it. also "twenty three skidoo" and "oh you kid, nineteen ought two" simpson's birth year. he wore bathing trunks that were practically skin tight, came to his bony knees, red stripes, running sideways, against a white back ground, looked like they came out of the 1920s. he wore white moccasins on his long feet. the tee shirt would have fit two simpsons. he was adorable. "pretty cool," i smiled and said. i handed him a scotch and water.

he looked at it, then went to the fridge and added a couple of ice cubes. stirred it with his long skinny finger, then took a long sip. "perfect." he almost laughed.

"i didn't think you brits thought much of ice, simpson."

"the bulgarian variety does, miss." he was getting closer to calling me by my real name, getting there.

"simpson, you told me you never married."

"i didn't, no" he replied.

"then whose great, great great grandpa are you?"

simpson smiled, and sat down by me on the love seat. "it's a long story madam, would probably be boring to you."

"oh simpson, nothing you could tell me would be boring."

simpson coughed, almost blushed, taking on that almost boyish appearence. "it's from a little girl, a child i tutored in louisville."

"and?"

he took another drink. "it's nothing really, she was an ugly duckling, with a severe learning disability, she felt that her classmates despised her, and in very bad shape when her mother asked me to see to her."

"and you turned her into a swan?"

he smiled. "not exactly miss, i turned her into a very effective trial attorney, with a knack for public speaking, and the looks of an angel. i was her best friend."

the look on simpson's face almost made me cry. "i wasn't making light of you, simpson."

he smiled a crooked smile. "i never thought you were miss. she married a long time politican who became a state senator, they had two children, they presented me with this shirt."

"then it's very special to you simpson?"

"very."

"did you make a lot of money tutoring?"

"why, a veritable fortune, mrs. chandler paid me as much as she could, when she could, i believe i tutored miss cindy for eleven years for the sum of two thousand dollars and some change."

"not much of an hourly wage, simpson."

"it was more than adequate miss."

"i should like to add 'superman' to that shirt simpson, would you let me?"

"drink your drink, miss, i'll make the next round."

"you didn't answer my question."

simpson blushed, i was embarrasing him. "you may make me a new shirt madam." simpson and i engaged in small talk, though there was nothing small in conversations with him. he was leaning his head back on the love seat, drinking. "what's that i feel?" he asked.

"huh." i looked down, it was my cat, russell, nuzzling simpson's feet. "it's just russell, simpson, i think he likes you."

simpson looked as if he were about to scream. he and russell stared each other right in the eyes. "he's just a cat," he said.

"sure, what were you expecting?"

simpson turned and eyed the stuffed ocelot. "knowing you madam, i wasn't sure what to expect."

i laughed. "so, you delete all of pork pie's charges on his credit card at the end of a month?"

"of course i don't," "he said. "miss carlee." there, he said my name again. i smiled. "i've been handling mr. anderson's finances since his first job, when he said he was tired of balancing check books. over the years, through prudent investing, his monthly dividends greatly outweigh anything he could possibly put on that card."

"so you just tell him that?"

"he enjoys the illusion."

"gosh simpson could you handle my finances?"

"certainly madam, how much would you be willing to invest per week?"

"eh, well, it probably wouldn't be a weekly investment, simpson."

"i see, monthly then?"

"to be honest simpson, i'm in between jobs at the moment. Now, pet russell's head." i really needed to change the subject.

simpson reached down toward russell. "ah, i'm really ill at ease.....slightly allergic....oh, never mind." he patted russell's head. russell loved him, jumped up in simpson's lap. "nice kitty." i had to smile. simpson hated cats, but he wouldn't do anything that might hurt me, even say he didn't like my cat.

"simpson, can i really get a new scope?"

"of course madam," he said petting russell's head, and sniffing.

"i've had my eyes on a schmid-cassegrain, you know, the lightweight ones that have a lot of power."

"power's not everything miss."

"oh?"

"yes, lgp is first, and focal length is next."

"what's lgp, simpson?"

"light gathering power ma'am, and i do agree with your buying a lightweight product. the russians developed the maksutov-cassegrain scope, made all other varieties obsolete."

i lay my chin against my right palm. "oh please simpson, please tell me about it."

simpson's words were poetry to me. "well, ma'am, the optics are far superior, the main mirror is first surface coated with aluminum-titanium, and is just slightly off parabola. the internal mirrors are alumtitan also, the tube contains four, giving the tube a focal length of over eight hundred centimeters, increased by a barlow to three times that. a straight reflector of that magnitude would be quite impossible for both you and i to handle."

"oh simpson, how much would one cost?"

simpson smiled. "a couple of G's or so, as mr. anderson would say."

"that's a lot."

"i'm sure mr. anderson wouldn't mind, madam, you taking care of the horse and all." my phone rang. "i'll get it," simpson announced. "miss carlee's residence, this is simpson, how may i help you?" god, i loved this.

from the phone, in a voice loud enough even for me to hear, pork pie bellowed across the room. "simpson, goddamn it, you all wiggle your asses out there asap and start cutting hair out of that damn horses tail, cut it off if you have to."

"what's the immediate attention, mr. anderson?"

"them fuckin' military motherfuckers leaked where we dropped off, the d.a. just left here."

"you didn't tell him where you took the babe?"

"shit no, but we can't take no chances now, go to it!"

"we're discussing buying the mount palomar telescope, i think the madam needs it."

"cut the horse's tail of first, how much do they want for the son-of-a-bitch?"

"who?"

"the mount palomar bastards!"

"ah, a hundred thousand, i believe."

"fix horsey first, simpson."

"we'll need the baby huey, sir, and the crew."

"fuck simpson, i fired them! and how is carlee?"

"she's fine sir."

"buzz, you take care of her, buy her what she wants!" pork pie hung up.

"you heard."

"yeah simpson, and i suspect my neighbors did too." i smiled, so did simpson.

"mount palomar had a two hundred inch mirror, once, the largest in the world."

"would pork pie spring for the hubble?"

he laughed: "he might, but i don't know where you would put it."

"shall we begin our search tomorrow, at walmart?"

"bite your tongue miss, walmart indeed, trust me, i'll find a store, but first we must see to andy's babe."

"right simpson, first things first, and what about your laser thing?"

"already done madam, removing the burnt hair from the horses tail is a much more difficult task, believe me."

we made our way outside to where andy's babe was pacing restlessly. it was as though he knew we were coming for him. "woah boy," simpson said. he grabbed a single singed hair and clipped it gently with his scissors. "you can't pull them, ma'am, i learned that the hard way." he clipped another one.

"how many simpson?"

"until all evidence is disippated, all evidence, one left won't do."

"gosh, that could take forever."

"nothing is forever, miss, but believe me, if we leave one singed hair, we'll be skinned."

"poor andy's babe, he'll look just awful, simpson."

"no he won't, we'll rearrange what is left into something entirely manageable, we have to."

"this is really important to pork pie, isn't it simpson?"

"yes ma'am, it is." i watched simpson for over an hour, then fell asleep in the grass. i awoke at six am, in my own bed. he must have carried me in. god, i slept good.

"rise and shine miss, breakfast is served." simpson said as he knocked on my door. i opened it, and he handed me a cup of coffee.

"thank you," i said. "did you bring me in last night?"

simpson smiled. "this morning miss, after we finished with andy's babe."

"god, i slept so soundly."

"please call mr. mcstoots, he rang early, change your clothes, breakfast is on the patio." wow, i could keep this guy around forever. i slipped out of my "hot bottom" outfit and put on a pair of jeans and an "fbi" tee shirt. i was sipping coffee in my bare feet, to the patio. ham and eggs, and biscuits and butter. they looked homemade. i dialed j.p. mcstoots on the portable.

"morning carlee." called i.d.

"good morning mr. mcstoots, i was told to call you."

"you hire new help carlee?"

"no, no, just a friend."

"carlee, do you have a horse?"

"why, no sir, well, there is one here, but it's not mine."

"is it called 'sandy,' or something like that?"

i smiled. "something like that. god, these biscuits are as light as a feather, did you make these yourself, simpson?"

"i took the liberty ma'am."

"are you there girl?"

"oh, sorry j.p., please go on."

"carlee, the most amazing thing has happened, i turned fifty in june, and decided to really do halloween up right this time."

"i thought you did that last year j.p."

"ha, i'll admit, last year was impressive, but i wanted to do something really spectacular this year. i found a psychic carlee, she's from bulgaria and is amazing, she knows everything."

"wow, that's great j.p., she should steal the show."

"it's more than that, it's downright scary, you've got to meet her. she knows a lot about you."

"oh, j. p., how would she know anything about me?"

"i don't know, thought you could help me."

"does seven pm sound good?"

"eight would be perfect carlee."

"see you then j.p."

"miss, we'll not find a decent telescope here." simpson was reading the owensboro phone book.

"where do we need to go?"

"i'm not sure madam, may i use the computer?"

"sure, help yourself, i'm going to shower and dress, and hey, breakfast was delicious."

"it was tasty, if i do say so myself," simpson smiled and said.

"and i've got some duds for you too."

"very well then," he said. i showered, put on a pair of cutoffs and a black tee shirt that said "c.i.a." i found one that read "f.b.i." for simpson, plus a pair of black shorts that i thought might fit him, and a black cap too.

he was still at the computer. "thank you miss, i'll put them on directly. nashville, that's where we have to go." i told simpson about the psychic from bulgaria.

"they shouldn't be taken too lightly madam, some work at it all their lives, work very hard, are completely uncanny."

"can we go, simpson?"

"after we get back from nashville, i have our directions."

"oh gosh simpson, i just hate nashville, i can never find anything, always get lost."

"leave it to me, madam, and give andy's babe and apple and fresh water, i'll be ready in a moment." the babe loved his apple, and oh, how i enjoyed him, his eyes just sparkled. i examined his tail. not as thick, but pretty, simpson had done well.

"gosh, special agent simpson, you look great." he smiled. simpson drove, the orion optics place was a block on our left. "i'm astonished simpson, it would have taken me a day and a half to have found this."

he smiled. "no problem."

"may i help you all?" the clerk said.

"yes sir," simpson said. "we're looking for a maksutov-cassegrain, perhaps twenty inches or so."

"ah yes, great taste, please follow me," the clerk said. my god in heaven, these damn things cost in the thousands. "this is my pick, sir, 28 inch mirror, very portable, ideal, is it for you or the lady?"

"for the lady," simpson said. "what is the total weight, including the mount?"

"sixty eight, i believe, and the mount is equatorial and completely programmable."

"nice," simpson said. "focal length?"

"ah, let me see sir. oh yes, 800mms."

"we would need that on casters, and i assume that filters are provided?"

"oh, yes sir, and a barlow lense."

"you could probably keep that," simpson told him. "we're not interested in artifical magnification."

"of course not,sir."

"is this camera compatable? i don't see a port."

"here sir, i'm afraid it was hidden by the price sticker."

"excellent!" simpson exclaimed.

"simpson, i don't have a camera."

simpson smiled. "oh, well sir, what's recommended for this model?"

"i'll check sir, excuse me i'll be right back."

"oh, simpson, it's going to be too expensive."

simpson looked me right in the eye, then up me and down me. "nonsense, this will make an ideal first telescope for you madam."

"i've had telescopes before, simpson."

"from walmart?" he chided.

"well, from not too far from there." i blushed.

simpson chuckled. "not any more, lovely lady." then, i really did blush. simpson made the clerk put the scope together, mount it with the casters, and had me push it around the store. he had me pick it up, heavy, but manageable. simpson smiled: "yes, this will do very well, wrap it up." he paid with pork pie's credit card. i put my fingers in my ears when he was told the total price. simpson petted my head, he took off his fbi cap, and scratched his head. the clerk rolled it out to my car, and carefully placed it in the back seat.

"tight squeeze," he commented.

"she should have bought a lexus," simpson said.

"right!" i replied.

"lord miss, we've got two hour to get to your friend's place." god, i had almost forgotten about j.p.

"we can make it simpson," i said. simpson was a hell of a driver. we were back by seven fifteen. "stop here simpson." he put on the brake and slowed down. "turn left here."

"chuckles lane?"

"yes, please, i want to see how my house is coming along."

"what's wrong with the one you live in now?"

"oh nothing simpson, but this one's very special to me, very mysterious, something terrible happened here a long time ago."

simpson held my hand. "dear lady, by that lovely look in your eyes, i should say that you are right, maybe the psychic can tell you more about it."

"gosh simpson, i never thought of that, and maybe you're right."

"it seems to be coming along very well, if i may say so." i kissed him on the cheek. we unloaded the telescope in the back yard. took the camera and the papers inside.

"oh simpson, can you hone the scope in for me?"

"of course madam." i had a lot of faith in this old guy.

i saw harriet's riding boots (lissell's actually, i had failed to return them). "you remember the avengers simpson?"

"i remember everything, miss."

"since when?"

"around 1902," he smiled. i didn't doubt him.

"ok, how many steeds were there?"

"horses, or people named steed?" he was playing with me.

"men."

"only patrick macnee."

"and mrs. peels?"

"three, i believe."

"oh, simpson, you do know everything."

he gave me a smirkish smile. "thank you madam."

"simpson, would you like a glass of strawberry hill?"

"yes, i would, whatever that is." russell ran to him, nuzzled his ankles. "your furry friend again." simpson coughed. "nice kitty."

i smiled and handed him his drink. "how's that?"

"drinkable," he answered.

"i thought you'd love that."

"yes, put a couple of bottles in the car, we'll be late."

"simpson, may i tell you something?"

"if you must."

"i love you in that outfit, and i adore the telescope."

he smiled at me. "you're quite welcome my dear." it was foggy down the rochester road, eerie, the sun set around seven thirty since last month. "woodsy." he commented.

"yes, very, the road's very narrow too."

"so i've noticed." the tires squealed as he rounded a sharp curve.

"hey simpson?"

"yes."

"the locals say that you can't do this curve over 50."

"what do the locals know about me?"

"i think they mean anyone."

simpson smiled. "i used to drive stock car for mr. shirley anderson."

"shirley?"

"yes, mr. laverne's father."

"shirley???"

"that was his name miss."

"and pork pie thinks laverne is bad." we laughed together. the moon was near full, and autumn was in the air. i rolled the car window down on my side as we approached, fog rolled in. "hey simpson, hand me that bottle of strawberry hill." i refilled my glass. "god simpson, this is the spookiest place."

"it's not spooky madam, just isolated, desolate." i drank about half of my glass, i could hear the ferry screeching across the green river. "what was that!" simpson snapped.

"i don't know, maybe an animal."

"a mechanical animal?"

"maybe, i don't know."

"roll your window up miss, and lock the doors," he demanded. "i'll investigate." i did as he said, and simpson got out of the car, walked slowly forward. "turn your lights on bright." i did, and i could see the misty green river, and the top of the ferry boat. "ho, anyone down there?" simpson shouted. nothing. "this is special agent simpson, and i've got a gun!" still nothing.

i got out of the car. "jason!" i shouted. "jaaasoon?"

"hoot, hoot." replied the owl.

"it came from over that away," simpson said.

"oh, hell simpson, it's just an owl, can you see jason aboard the ferry?"

"no, there is no one on board."

"shit, then how did the ferry log over?"

"i have no idea madam, may be we should get back to the car."

"simpson," i said, "if i didn't know better, i'd think you were scared."

"nonsense miss, i was just being cautious." simpson got in and locked his door. "go on madam, we'll be late."

i started to chuckle, when suddenly there was a knock on my window. "shit! jason, you scared the hell out of us."

"you all sceeered me miss carlee, you all got a new car?"

"jason, why aren't you on the fuckin' ferry!"

"your fbi guy was gonna shoot me, miss carlee, i ranned to the woods."

"you're soaking wet jason."

"jumped ship miss carlee."

"meet mr. simpson jason."

"hey, mr. fbi guy, i liked harriet better, miss carlee, where's she at?"

"in england, working jason."

"she shore was purdy."

"she liked you too jason, in fact, she asked me to give you this ten dollar bill and to thank you for pulling us across last year."

"thankee miss carlee, and tell miss harriet i miss her."

"i will jason, and dry off, there's a car wait load on the other side."

"oh shoot! thanks for tellin' me, gotta go folks."

"please wait master jason," simpson said. "do you know anything about a lady from bulgaria that mr. mcstoots brought up here?"

"sure mister, she's wonderful, knows everything."

"what is her name?"

"ah, nino, no, ninya velotti, i think, she's real old mr. fbi man, but she knew my mama's unwed name, gotta go, and you all be careful. hold your dang horses, i'm coming!"

"his mother's unwed name?" simpson smiled.

"frankly simpson, i was always under the impression that an eagle pissed on a rock, and the sun hatched jason."

simpson laughed. "you may very well be on to something madam."