Do you ever wonder what the Norwegians do for Easter?
- They “all” go up to the mountains skiing, some in just a bathing suit.
- They eat Easter lamb and yummy Easter marzipan.
- If they are lucky they can see the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis).
- They read spooky crime novels and solve Easter quizzes.
- They sit in the sun getting a really dark tan and wear a white high neck sweater when they get back in the city, and brag about their winter cabin.
Lurer du på hva Nordmenn gjør i Påsken?
- Alle reiser på fjellet for å stå på ski, noen bare i en badedrakt.
- De spiser Påske Lam og god Påske marsipan.
- Hvis de er heldige så får de se Nordlyset.
- De leser krim bøker og løser Påskenøtter.
- De soler seg hele påsken og har på seg en hvit høyhalset genser når de reiser tilbake til byen, hvor de skryter av hytta si.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
Star Gaze Airline called one day asking if I could work on a special flight. A group of Arabian sheiks were flying from Miami to Egypt. They had asked specifically for Lovise and me to serve them. I was very flattered and agreed. I called Lovise and she was also very excited.
Having sheiks onboard was always fun. They would give you beautiful gifts, like a ruby ring or a diamond bracelet. One time I got a Rolex Oyster, I’m still wearing it every day. Airlines do have rules and regulations saying a flight attendant is not allowed to receive gifts from the passengers, but since SGA is a privately owned airline, they don’t have any such rules.
It’s May 2005, Friday the 13th and we are flying from Miami to Egypt.
When the passengers board I can see some of the sheiks are bringing their wives and others their mistresses. All the girls are very young, pretty and blond.
I guess blondes do have more fun.
I recognize the sheik who probably asked for Lovise and me. He is an older guy, at least 50, and the one who gave me the Rolex. He’s always asking for a date and I’m always turning him down, saying, “You don’t want to go there!”
He will then grab my hand, his ugly brown eyes glowing. “Oh, but I do, I do want to go there!”
You don’t know how lucky you are, being rejected.
The sheik spots me and waves me over.
“Ewa! I’m so happy to see you!” He grabs me and three smackers are planted on my cheeks, then he whispers in my ear. “I’ve got something very special for you this time.”
I smile and show him the Rolex on my wrist. “See, I’ve been wearing this ever since you gave it to me.”
He takes my hand, smiling. “I’m very, very pleased to hear that. I will give you my special gift later.”
The cabin is all clear for takeoff, Lovise and I are in our seats. Lovise is grinning.
“I’m ready to hear the next adventure or horror story from you.”
Too bad I can’t tell you about drowning Eva Newermann in the bathtub, but I do have a story involving liquid.
“This time I’m in California.” I lean back and continue my story.
“I had rented a car and was driving down the coast. I’m getting hungry and when I spot a place called By the Way (clever name), I stopped to get something to eat. The place must have been popular because it was packed. The only free seat was at the counter, so I jumped on a stool. An older man next to me is eating soup, so I order the same.
“I get the bowl of soup in front of me, pick up the spoon and I’m just about to open my mouth to taste it, when out of the corner of my eye I can see the old man’s head crash into his soup.
“I’m sitting there frozen with the spoon an inch away from my mouth. My nostrils are picking up the smell from the soup. The waitress comes running over, pulling his head out of the bowl. I can see he has white foam around his mouth and he falls off the chair and hits the floor.
“Someone hollered, ’Is there a doctor in the house?’
“I looked down at my soup and very slowly put the spoon back, into the bowl. I had lost my appetite.
“’He is dead, Jim.’ I heard a man say to another guy. I got down from my high stool and walked out the door. Outside, the sirens swelled louder and louder. End of story,” I tell Lovise.
Lovise is jumping up and down in her chair.
“Didn’t you stick around to find out if it was the soup that killed him?”
“No, I didn’t, but I tell you, it took me a long time before I could eat soup again!”
Now we have reached cruising altitude and we get on our feet to serve the sheiks.
“Let’s see what’s cooking,” I say. “Maybe we can serve them some soup!
We head off giggling to the galley.
For the following hours we are busy serving people drinks and food. The Blondies want champagne and a lot of it.
My sheik has been dangling a little red box in front of me every time I passed him.
Finally 20 minutes before landing in Cairo I have a break and the sheik pulls me down onto the empty seat next to him.
“Open it!” He thrusts the little red box into my hands. I pull the gold ribbon off and open it. It’s a music box, playing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” Inside is another smaller box and when I open it, I gasp. It’s a huge diamond ring.
“Ewa,” my sheik is laughing, “I know how you adore Marilyn Monroe. Her movie ’Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ is one of your favorites. Well, this is the ring she was wearing while singing ’Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.’ It’s a five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring.” He then takes my left hand and slips it on my finger. “It will go well with your Rolex.”
“I’m speechless,” I say, “and it takes a lot to make me speechless!”
The sheik puts his hand under my chin and looks into my eyes.
Funny what a five-carat diamond can do to a girl. His brown eyes seem nearly attractive, and 50, is it really that old?
Suddenly a strong electrical shock goes through my body. Similar to the feeling I get after a kill but much stronger. I feel like I’m burning up. The sheik puts his face close to mine.
“Now, can I have that date?” He is going to say something more but the plane starts to go into a steep nose dive. Suddenly all hell breaks loose. Glasses, champagne bottles, laptops, you name it; everything is flying, getting smashed to smithereens.
The people who weren’t strapped in, including me, are getting tossed around like rag dolls. I’m trying desperately to get up front, but I finally have to give up. I manage to get into a seat and put on the seatbelt. I can feel blood dripping from my forehead. The Blondies are screaming and some are crying.
The purser has made it to the intercom but nobody can hear what he is saying. I try to tell people around me to prepare for a crash landing.
I show them the vests and we all put them on. The pilot has managed to level the plane out a little and I make it to my jump seat. Next to the seat inside a small compartment I have my personal waterproof emergency pouch. It contains a small flashlight, matches, lighter, Swiss knife, fishing hook with a line and a birth control box containing Rohypnol.
You never know.
I put the pouch around my neck and tuck it inside my blouse. I can’t see Lovise anyplace.
Now the plane starts shaking and goes into another steep dive. I try to signal the passengers to take their shoes and glasses off, bend forward, lock hands behind their neck and get ready for a crash landing.
Oh crap! We are all going to die!
For a moment I look out at the sky.
If I really have some alien DNA in me, this would be a perfect time to put it to use. I need a miracle to happen!
The cockpit door slams open and I can hear the faint voice of the copilot.
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!”
Inside my head I see my brother James holding up his daughter Lilliana, who is trying to say my name –but it comes out “wawa.”
A whiff of cinnamon tickles my nostrils and I remember Adam Skai telling me Friday the 13th will be my lucky day. Oh, boy! Was he ever wrong!
I put my head between my knees and close my eyes. My head feels like it’s going to explode and in flashes I see:
Sunny, crushing my head with a stone.
Genie, throwing me into the fire.
Pharaoh, cutting me open with a razor-blade.
Erik, pushing me off a cliff.
Eva, drowning me.
Adam is swimming towards me. His white arms are trying to catch me. He is saying something I don’t understand. Could it be Friday the 13th?
The cinnamon smell gets stronger.
Then there is a terrible explosion and a bright white light.
In Hollywood, Florida, Irene is in the living room playing with Lilliana when James comes rushing in.
“I just heard on the radio, a Star Gaze Airliner has crashed into the ocean, close to Alexandria in Egypt!”
Irene picks up Lilliana and looks at James, worried.
“Ewa can’t have been on that flight. They would have contacted us if she was.”
Lilliana is frightened by her parents’ alarm and starts crying when the phone and the doorbell ring at the same time.
Irene and James look at each other in horror.!
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
A White Dwarf – A Dying Star
“Let me fix the drinks,” I say, “you just sit down and relax.”
My gloves are on the table and I put them on.
Then I walk to the front door and flip the Open sign to Closed. Locking the door I tell Eva, “No point being disturbed.”
Erik’s picture is glued to her chest.
I go into the small kitchen. She has a collection of different liquor bottles on the counter.
After mixing each of us my easy-on-the-Coke Bacardi specials, I go back to her.
Handing her the drink, with my glove on, I say, “I can’t believe my fingers are still cold.”
She grabs the glass and gulps half of it down. I do the same thing with mine. “No mother should have to bury her child,” Eva says, monotonously.
It seems her mind is somewhere else. Maybe far, far out in the Cosmos.
Eva looks at me with tears in her eyes. “We had been married for seven years and then, last year, on the 17th of May, he disappeared.
“We didn’t know what happened. He was such a loving husband and we were trying to have children.”
If you had only known how your loving husband was screwing around.
“One month after he disappeared, I find out I’m pregnant. After two months, I had a miscarriage, probably from all the stress.
“Well, four months pass and then they find him dead, at the bottom of the Pulpit Rock.”
Now her drink is empty and I go and get her another, even stronger. Her eyes are getting heavy and her speech is slurred.
“The police are not sure what happened, there are too many questions. They think it might be suicide, which is ridiculous. He was very happy when I saw him the last time.
“May 17 is a big day here and we had lunch with our family. He told me he had to go meet some people from the Viking soccer team. He was being considered as their next coach.
“When he was not back the next day and I had called all the people I could think of and none of them knew where he was, I called the police. The police have ended the investigation now, it was just put down as a suicide.”
Eva stands up and throws her arms up in the air.
“I just feel something is wrong. I don’t believe it was suicide. He didn’t drive his car and no cab drove him to the Pulpit.
“I’m going to my cabin in the mountain for a week.
“When I get back, I will use the extra cash I get from selling you the painting to hire a private investigator.
“There must be somebody who has seen something.”
This is no good! I have to put a stop to this! She is going to use my money to find me and get me convicted for murder? I don’t think so!
She gets up and stumbles towards the stairs. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I jump up. “I’ll help you up the stairs.”
After some commotion we reach the bathroom and she falls down, and crawls the rest of the way to the toilet.
This girl is going to pass out any minute now.
I walk over to the bathtub and start running the water. I pour in a good amount of her bubble bath bottle.
“Look,” I tell Eva, “why don’t you get into the tub? It will do you good.”
She is still sitting on the toilet half asleep.
I unbutton her blouse and her bra; her slacks and panties are still around her ankles.
When I have undressed her I put my arms around her and help her into the tub.
She slides down into the water. I clap her on the head.
“I’ll go down and get you a drink.”
“Thank you,” she sighs deeply and closes her eyes.
I mix her a drink in a new glass and bring it upstairs. When I get back she is nearly gone, literally and visually. All I can see is her long blond hair, floating on top of the suds.
I put my hands on her head and push it under the water. No resistance. I go down on my knees, glance at my watch and hold her head under the water for five minutes. All I see is the foam covering the whole bathtub.
You are like a white dwarf, which is a dying star. You are at peace now. I’m doing you a favor. Another tragic suicide in the family.
I close my eyes and enjoy the electric jolts that run through my body.
I put my dripping wet gloves into a plastic bag. At the sink I take one glove out and use it when I open the faucet, being careful not to leave any fingerprints. Then I wash both of the gloves under the running water, getting rid of the suds. I wring the water out of them and put them back on.
Now I have to rewind and try to remember everything I touched when I wasn’t wearing gloves. I did have them on until I sat down at the table. I’d better go downstairs and start wiping off prints.
Our Irish coffee mugs are still on the table, together with the Cuba Libre glasses and Erik’s picture. In the kitchen I open the dishwasher. It’s full, I start counting glasses and mugs. There are four glasses and three mugs, matching the one we have used.
Opening the cabinets I see three more glasses and two more mugs.
So, she has a total of nine glasses and seven mugs. That includes the ones we have been drinking from. Odd numbers, so nobody is going to notice that one glass and one mug are missing, I will take mine with me and throw them away later.
I grab Erik’s picture and go upstairs to the bathroom. Standing in the doorway, I try to visualize what it would look like if she had committed suicide.
The toilet has not been flushed, so I leave it like that. Her clothes are on the floor. I take Erik’s picture and drop it into the bathtub, face down.
I hope this is the last time I will see your ugly brown eyes.
Putting her glass on the bathtub shelf, I give it a push, so it hits the floor. It doesn’t shatter, only gets a few cracks. I stand there and watch as her Bacardi Coke runs down the drain.
I go back to the doorway for another look.
Hope I have remembered everything. Would she have left the door open? No, I think she would have closed it.
Closing the door, on my way down, I pass a door with STUDIO painted on it. I can’t resist, I go inside. The room is filled from top to bottom with paintings.
It really would be nice to have a souvenir. I think I deserve one. I can’t take the Stonehenge painting in the window. That’s too risky.
Finally I find a small painting of Stonehenge. Not more than 30 by 30 centimeters. It has no frame or signature.
Perfect! If anybody asks, I’ll just say I bought it from somebody on the street.
I wipe it down with a cloth I find on the table.
In the kitchen I put the painting in a plastic bag and put my glass and mug in another. The chair I’ve been sitting on I push back under the table. That way only one chair is pulled out.
Eva’s Irish coffee mug and her other glass is still on the table.
In the hallway my socks meet the glass and mug. I will throw them away on my way back.
I peek out the door. All quiet on the Western Front, except for the rain drumming down. I hurry back to the hotel, getting rid of the evidence along the way.
We are flying out this evening.
So much for my relaxing time in Stavanger!
My talented daughter Line Newermann has captured this image of her drone. It is the drone that has capured all her drone images. It has a gyro stabilised camera hanging under it.
Min datter Line Newermann, har tatt et bilde av dronen hun bruker når hun tar drone bilder. Den har et gyroskopisk stabilt kamera hengende på undersiden.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
It’s February 2004 and I’m back in Stavanger, Norway. Last time, nine months ago, I had killed Erik at the Pulpit Rock. This time I have no evil planned. I’ll just spend some relaxing time with my flight crew.
Maybe I’ll even look up a bridge club. I’ve seen a flyer in the hotel’s lobby, saying;
Join us for bridge!
Gann Bridge Club, Sandnes.
Sandnes is a town just 20 minutes’ drive from Stavanger.
I can also do some shopping, visit museums and art galleries. Lucky for me, I’m rich! I don’t have to cry over how expensive everything is in Norway.
I’m not lucky with the weather, though. Strange, it’s Friday the 13th and since that’s supposed to be my lucky day, according to Adam Skai, the Sun should be shining. Instead it’s cold and rainy and the wind feels like a wet dust devil. Here they have a saying: There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes. So I‘ve bought the best money can buy in the latest rainwear fashion.
My green rain jacket, slacks and boots are all covered with decorative prints of daisies and bluebells. The rain hat and my knitted gloves have daisies on them too. I look like a freaking, walking garden, wobbling down the streets!
The streets have cobblestones and are hard to walk on, the small wooden houses are all painted white. In the windows are colorful flowers and sometimes a cat peeking out.
Suddenly I see a large sign saying The Big Bang Gallery, Eva Newermann. In the windows are paintings of planets, Stonehenge and the giant three swords of Hafrsfjord, the same image that was on the postcard Erik gave me on the plane.
I’ll be dammed! This is the artist Lillian was going to introduce me to in Miami, back in 2001.
I go inside.
In the hallway a large stack of knitted socks are on a table. I hang my raincoat and hat on some brass hooks, then I take my boots off and put on a pair of socks.
I keep my gloves on, still feeling cold. I’m wearing a dark wig to protect my own hair from the rain.
The only person in the room and I presume she is Eva, is sitting on a high chair with her back towards the door when I walk in.
Her long blond hair makes her look like a typical Norwegian. She is working on a painting of a kitten chasing a butterfly.
“Hi,” I say, “what a cute kitten. Is it yours?”
She doesn’t turn around, but keeps on painting and starts mumbling in English.
“That’s Tussa, she is a wild cat.”
Cute, Tussa is the female name for the trolls that live in the Norwegian woods.
She continues, “She runs wild outside my cabin in the mountain. When I’m up there I feed her, and sometimes she lets me pet her.”
I step up a little closer. I can smell alcohol even though she’s not facing me.
I clear my throat, “You will never believe this, but my whole family was going to come to your vernissage in Miami, back in September 2001. My aunt and uncle had a restaurant chain all over the world, called the Big Bang and they were going to buy some paintings from you, but then the September 11 attack happened. They got killed in one of the Towers.”
By now, Eva has stopped painting, turns around and looks at me without smiling.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says, “I remember that well. My whole exhibition was affected by that event. Hardly any people attended my vernissage. Very few came to the art gallery the next three weeks. Everybody was so devastated by the attack. They had other things to do than to shop for paintings.” She peaks with a slight Norwegian accent.
“Well,” I say, “I see you have a painting of Stonehenge in the window. I would like to buy it. Money is no object.”
She smiles for the first time. “I’m leaving on a vacation tomorrow and it would be nice to have some extra cash, if that’s OK with you?”
“No problem. I just have to find an ATM.”
Eva has been taking sips from a glass while we were talking. She takes a look out the window and then back at me and puts her glass down.
“Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable for a while, and maybe the rain will stop?” she says, as she pulls up a chair for me.
“In this weather nobody will come to the gallery, anyway. You look like you could use a warm drink, what about an Irish coffee?”
“That sounds great!” I pull off my gloves and sit down.
“By the way, my name is also Ewa, but I spell it with a W. Ewa Lowe, I’m from Fort Lauderdale, Florida.”
“Ewa Lowe,” she says, almost dreamingly. “What a catchy name! Catchy enough to be an artist’s name. Are you an artist?”
Yes, but not the kind you can imagine.
“I’m a flight attendant, but I do some painting in my spare time.”
“Airline stewardess!” she exclaimed. “What an interesting life you must have!”
Well, compared to some other things I do, it’s almost dull.
I smile and put my gloves on the table. I get up and walk around the room looking at her paintings. She disappears into the kitchen. After a while she returns with two Irish coffees, in mugs.
We talk some more and I notice she is drinking way to fast, getting a little tipsy. When she has finished her Irish, she walks back to the kitchen. She returns with a bottle of Bacardi Rum and a large bottle of Coca-Cola.
So, we have the same taste buds, drinking wise.
“Listen,” she says, “I have some more paintings upstairs, if you would like to take a look. Would you like another drink to bring upstairs?”
“No, thanks,” I shake my head, “I’m fine.”
After she has mixed herself a Cuba Libre I follow her up the stairs.
The wall leading up to the second floor is covered with what looks to be family photos. I see one in black and white of a young Eva. She is wearing a polka dot bikini.
“That’s a delightful picture,” I say.
“Yes,” Eva smiles, touching the picture tenderly.
“That was many moons ago. I did some modeling in Hollywood, California. I lived there when I was 20 years old and I met many movie stars.” Her eyes are twinkling like stars, too.
Before I can ask her which movie stars she met, my eyes pop open.
I stop dead in my tracks. I’m staring straight into Erik, the Viking’s big brown eyes!
What is this? Am I going insane?
The biggest heebie-jeebies you can imagine are going through my body.
I let out a small gasp and point at the picture on the wall.
“Who, who is this in the picture?” I stutter. Eva turns around and sits down on one of the steps.
“This,” she says, “was my husband, Erik. He is the reason I’m drinking too much.” She empties her glass and starts to cry.
I turn away from her, hoping she hasn’t noticed how shook up I am.
“You know what?” I say, “I think I will have that drink after all. Why don’t we go downstairs and you can tell me what happened.”
She gets up, clinging to the rail. When she passes the picture of Erik, she takes it down and cradles it to her chest.
We go back to our chairs.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Rare, Medium or Well Done?
The limo drops me off at my hotel a little after nine. I say goodnight to Lovise, who is going on to Southampton. I’ve told her I’m dead tired and going straight to bed.
When I get inside the lobby, I walk down the hallway, past my room and to the emergency exit door. No alarm goes off when I open it and there are no security cameras any place…I can even open the door from the outside.
Crime has not yet come to this part of town. They haven’t had many visitors like Ewa.
I go back to my room and hit the bed fully dressed. It will take me 40 minutes to walk back to the pit-cooking site and my meeting with Genie. That gives me nearly an hour’s rest.
Genie is already there, sitting on top of the mud bank. When he sees me he tries to get up. Looking like a stumblebum he stoops back down.
“Hey!” I say, “What’s cooking?”
“Oh, hell!” he wipes his nose “I got us some coke all right, but I don’t know about this shit.” He shows me some white powder.
“Are you crazy?” I bark, “I didn’t mean that kind of coke!”
He grins and holds up a six-pack of Coca-Cola. “Oh, so you meant this?”
The bastard has a sense of humor.
I slump down next to him and give him a kiss. I think he deserves that. He grabs my breasts and squeezes them softly.
“So, so,” I remove his hands, “we have all night for that. Let me show you what I’ve got.” I pull out a bottle of Bacardi 151. “This is a very special rum, you’re going to love it.”
What he doesn’t know is that with an alcohol content of 75.5 percent, this is one of the strongest rum drinks in the world, and very flammable. In fact, it is so potent that Bacardi adds a special device called a flame arrester on top of the bottle.
“Bring it on!” Genie puts his cup close to the bottle for me to fill. I pour him a strong one with a dash of Coke. I fix myself one, too.
I think I’m going to need it.
“This drink is called a Cuba Libre,” I tell him, “and it’s going to put some hair on your balls!” I put my hands into his crotch and pinch him lightly.
“I will drink to that,” he says, red-faced, drinking nearly all in one gulp.
“Cheers and bottoms up!” I reply and pretend I’m finishing mine, too. Adding some more Cola to mine and some more Bacardi to his, I can see he is getting hammered.
“Do you know we’ve got a Stonehenge in Maryhill, in Washington State?”
Genie looks at me blur-eyed. “No shit?”
I know you couldn’t care less.
“Yes,” I go on, “in 1918 Samuel Hill, son of Quaker parents, built a full-size replica of Stonehenge. They didn’t have the right kind of stones though, so they used reinforced concrete.”
“Cheers for them!” Genie empties his cup and I hurry to refill it.
I pour myself some plain Coke and continue. “It’s called Stonehenge Memorial and is dedicated to servicemen of Klickitat County in Washington, who died for their country during World War I.”
Genie, now flat on his back, is trying to focus on me. “I tried to get into the military,” he is slobbering, “but they wouldn’t have me.”
That’s because you are a disgrace to those brave men, Genie.
I bend over and force him to drink some more. “No, no more!” he whimpers, “I think I’m going to be sick.” His eyes roll back and he is out like a light. And brighter he’s going to be.
I shake him, no response. Checking his pockets, all I find are some keys and his driver’s license. There is still some Bacardi 151 left, I pour it all over his body. Afterwards I toss the bottle, keys and license into the burning coals.
Genie follows when I give him a push and he rolls straight into his hot grave. I can see the coals are still warm enough for some serious cooking. His clothes catch on fire right away and I have to step back a little.
Suddenly I hear a muffled scream. His body, blazing like a fireball, is trying to get out of the pit.
What in the world should I do? I could hit him with the shovel. No, if they do find him that will surely look like murder. What if I just hold him down with the shovel? No, he would have some marks on him and the shovel would be burned.
He has nearly managed to crawl out of the pit, but as if in slow motion, he slides back down into the coals.
Genie Flambé! Should I stick around until he is rare, medium or well done? Well, I’ll let him roast for ten minutes and then I’ll cover him up.
I lie down, with my head cupped in my hands, staring at him. While he is dying, the electric current burns throughout my shivering body.
A gravel machine and some shovels are standing next to the pits, waiting for the handymen. I know they are going to cover the pits in the morning. Also, every morning, a heavy fog has been sneaking across the meadows. It is so dense you can hardly see your hand in front of you.
I’m hoping it will happen this dawn, too, then nobody will notice that somebody has already started filling the pit, or they might just think some of the walls have caved in.
I get a shovel and start working.
Phew! He sure stinks! See what happens when you pester my friend, Lovise and me! This is my Stonehenge Sacrifice Ceremony.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Summer Solstice Festival
The word “solstice” comes from the words meaning sol (the sun) and stice (to stop). Near the time of the solstice, on June 21, the Sun appears to set and rise in the same position for a couple of days. Sorry to say, but it looks as if we are not going to see the Sun in England today. The weather forecast predicted heavy clouds and some rain.
Considering that we are all dressed in long red raincoats with hoods. Also wearing hoods and robes, in white, are the Druids. The Druids are priests (many study astronomy) and they also claim they are the original builders of Stonehenge.
A couple of weeks ago an amazing crop circle appeared right next to Stonehenge. I had a farmer collect some grains from inside the circle. I have put the grains into six silver buckets. Six Druids will toss the grains over Lilliana and me when we walk up to Stonehenge, much like at a wedding ceremony when the guests throw rice at the bride and groom.
I have even written a chant for the Druids to perform.
People already started to gather at the monument site last night. From our camp we could see the smoke from a large bonfire and hear the distant drumming.
Scientists have studied the sound inside the stone circle. It resembles the sound you get when you take a wine glass and ring it with your finger. The whole place resonates.
The sound passes around the stones and can be heard for some distance. This effect would be even stronger if so many of the stones had not been missing from the circle. If you have a torch and loud music, you can see the flames move in time to the music.
The sound creates waves in the air. We also have waves in our brain, called alpha waves. Under the right circumstances these waves can be affected, this could lead to you going into a trance.
If drums play at a fast speed (160 beats a minute), like a samba and you dance to it, your heart can also beat 160 times a minute. If you now are full of drugs (cannabis has been excavated at the site) we are now replicating an ancient religious rave party here!
Some historians think a priest or a shaman would stand in the middle of the stone circle leading the ritual. People would be chanting, dancing, clapping hands and playing drums. Repetitive trance rhythms would be played in time to the echoes and flames. Bonfires and torches light the whole place. Maybe they were making some animal or human sacrifice too. It must have been a frightening and spectacular sight.
“Spectacular” doesn’t nearly give justice to the sight we see when we arrive at Stonehenge. The time is 4:30 in the morning, and everybody is getting ready for the solstice.
The whole place is engulfed in a cloud of smoke, haze and soap bubbles. Thousands of people are carrying torches and giant scented joss sticks, gongs, drums, whistles and whoops, together with people stamping their feet in unison, all making so much noise it could probably wake the dead.
A torch-lit Brazilian samba parade is passing us. Later on we learn that approximately 22,000 people gathered for the Festival.
Revelers came from all over the world. Costume Fairies, New Age Travelers, Druids, Hare-Krishna’s celebrate in their own way.
There’s a bizarre mix of people with dogs on leashes. Some people are standing drinking out of silver goblets, a few try to climb the stones. The police stop them and escort them offsite.
My guests and the six Druids line up in two rows facing each other. Irene, carrying (wide-eyed) Lilliana, James and I walk between them. The Druids, tossing the grains over our heads, are chanting,
Oh beloved Lillian and Dexter
Souls of the dead
Drifting in glorious Cosmos
Rejoice! Rejoice! Lilliana
On your heavenly journey
Into blissful eternity
By now we reach the stones.
Suddenly, something strange is happening to me. It feels as if I’m receiving small electric shocks in my arms and hands. I look and see some of the grains, the ones the Druids tossed, are still clinging to my hands, and they are glowing!
Instinctively I try brushing them off, but it seems as if they penetrate into my skin.
I glance over at Irene, I see she also got grains on her hands, but they are not glowing. My whole body feels a bit funny, as if I’m wired, or kind of tipsy. I start laughing nervously, and Irene, who thinks I’m just very happy, starts laughing along with me.
With shaky hands I take the urns, the ones that contain Lillian and Dexter’s ashes, I pour the contents around one of the stones. Strange, the ashes smell like cinnamon. Adam’s face flashes through my brain.
“Arrivederci: till we meet again!”
What should have been a glorious sunrise doesn’t happen, instead, fog and heavy clouds happen, soon it starts to rain. Most of the people (oddly enough) are unprepared for the weather and quickly disperse.
I’m glad we have the large tent to go back to.
When I’m no longer close to the stones, my body starts feeling normal again. I have heard that there is a strong magnetic field inside the stones and even with my rubber soles I can feel this strange electricity. Just like the jolts I felt touching Adam Skai the first time we meet.
Inside the tent everything is ready for us. The flickering lights are giving the place nearly a haunted feeling. In the middle, next to the font, a Druid in his white robe is waiting to christen Lilliana. She is asleep when I carry her up to the font. James and Irene are standing next to the priest. Very carefully, the three of us lock hands, with Lilliana resting in our arms.
The priest starts to speak a language I don’t understand, while he is waving his hands over Lilliana’s head. Then he takes the silver bottles containing the water from the ocean in Fort Lauderdale and pours it over Lilliana’s head. She wakes up, she was startled and start to wail. The Druid speaks louder now and in English.
“I hereby give you the name Lilliana. May happiness and prosperity follow you on your journey.”
The Druid looks at James and with a crooked smile he whispers, “May the force be with her.”
James and I give Lilliana to Irene. I take the stunning, two-carat diamond pendant (made from Lillian and Dexter’s ashes) and dangle it in front of Lilliana’s eyes. She stops crying and tries to grasp it. I put it around her neck and tuck it inside her dress, so she will not be able to rip it off.
Suddenly all the lights go out and the tent becomes pitch-black
An orchestra starts playing a beautiful song named “Morning Mood” from the “Peer Gynt” Suite. The writer, Edvard Grieg, was probably Norway’s greatest composer. If you listen to it with your eyes closed you can almost feel the sunrise.
Our eyes, on the other hand, are wide open. Because now – on a 360-degree movie screen – we can watch the marvel of the “Summer Solstice of Stonehenge.”
This made up for the fact that we had not been able to see the sunrise live. Next, the screen shows pictures from Lillian and Dexter’s life.
The music starts to fade away, as the screen shows a film of Lilliana, five minutes old, in her mother’s arms.
The lights come on and everybody is clapping. Yes, this surely was a wonderful and memorable moment.
All the guests are forming a circle, sitting on pillows on the floor. In the middle is Lilliana, Irene, James and me. Lilliana, seven months old, can crawl and sometimes tries to sit up.
They have all brought presents for Lilliana. One by one, they put a package next to her and she rips the paper off, laughing.
After a while there are teddy bears and other stuffed animals, in all colors and sizes, all around her. One person has brought a mini robotic pet, to the great pleasure of us grownups. There are also Barbie and Bratz dolls and some jewelry.
Irene has a big brass christening box and she puts all the knickknacks into it. Red, white and blue balloons are floating down from the ceiling.
After two hours of partying, everybody is exhausted. Lilliana falls asleep and we all go back to our tents for some rest.
At five o’clock in the afternoon we are all gathered at the pit-cooking site. The rain has stopped, but it’s still chilly. We soon feel warmer eating West Coast cheeses, scones and cream, washed down with a local mead – a potent drink of fermented honey and water.
A crane is used to lift the hog and lamb out of the pits. They are put on a large flat stone and the unwrapping starts. The foil looks very black and so do the pig and lamb, but when the chef starts slicing into the meat, we can see it’s pinkish.
I get some sweet potatoes, veggies, two slices of meat and of course, some more mead to drink. I must say this was one of the best meals I’ve ever had.
A local group is dancing and singing and after the meal we all join in.
Nobody really wants to leave when the limos arrive to pick us up.
Like the Chupacabra,
my calling card is death!
– Ewa Lowe
This is a suggestion for the cover of the second book of the Ewa Lowe Novella.
I would love some feedback or suggestions.
Dette er et forslag til forsiden av bok nr to i Ewa Lowe serien.
Kom gjerne med tilbakemeldinger eller forbedrings forslag.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Stonehenge – England
Everybody agrees that prehistoric Stonehenge is a tourism attraction and Britain’s greatest national icon. What the historians can’t agree on is what it was used for.
This monument of huge stones solitarily standing on the Salisbury Plains in Wiltshire was built more than 5,000 years ago. The stones were somehow dragged from Wales, 4,000 kilometers away.
Some of the stones weigh up to 4,500 kilograms, and are nearly seven meters tall. It took approximately 600 men to move one stone.
How they managed to do it is still a mystery, or maybe we should just believe a few people who say it was built by extraterrestrial visitors and used as a landing site for their ships!
Every so often fantastic crop circles appear close to Stonehenge and this strengthens their alien theory. Of course, most of these crop circles have been proved to be hoaxes, man-made, but some are still unexplained.
Unfortunately, previous generations have removed many of the stones for home construction or road repairs. Stonehenge is a ruin. The name Stonehenge comes from an old English word, Stauhengist, which means hanging stones.
Archeologists believe the site’s construction was carried out in three stages and designate them Stonehenge I, II and III.
Stonehenge I was when the native Neolithic people started digging a circular ditch, more than 5,000 years ago. This ditch contained 56 shallow holes that are called the Aubrey holes. Then two parallel stones were raised, named the Slaughter Stones, but only one is still standing. The site was used for about 500 years and then abandoned.
Stonehenge II construction started around 2100 B.C. A semicircle of 80 granite stones was made. These stones are called bluestones, because of their blue color. We know they had to be dragged all the way from the Presell Mountains in South Wales, 402 kilometers away. They each weigh up to 4,000 kilograms.
The entranceway to the semicircle of the bluestones is aligned with the midsummer sunrise. Two Heel Stones (one remains) were placed a short distance from the circle, every year on June 21, the Sun rises from behind the remaining Heel Stone, making it a spectacular sight to watch.
Many myths have been told of how the Heel Stone got its name. The Devil challenged everybody that no one could count the stones and arrive at the right answer, and sure enough, every time someone counted the stones they would come up with a different number.
Finally, a monk called his bluff, he said. “There are more stones than can be told.”
The devil got so mad he threw a stone at the monk, but it bounced harmlessly off his heel. This is how the Heel Stone got its name.
Another legend is that the Devil threw a stone at Merlin when he stole the stones, striking his heel.
Stonehenge phase III, is what we can see of the stone circle today. Built in 2000 B.C., these nearly seven-meter-tall trilithons are spectacular. The trilithons are a set of two upright stones topped with a lintel. Lintels are horizontal stones, curved to create a complete circle on the top.
From the original 30 upright stones, 17 are still standing. These stones come from Marlborough Downs, 32 kilometers to the North. Why would they drag these gigantic stones all the way to Stonehenge? Why not build closer to the quarry? What is so special about the Stonehenge site? All these questions are part of the Stonehenge mystery.
Some think it could have been built by a sun-worshiping culture, or it could be a religious temple for animal and human sacrifice.
Sacrifice? Sounds like a good spot to get rid of Genie.
Human remains excavated from burial mounds nearby reveal people who had many injuries and illnesses. Maybe they thought the stones had healing power. You sit under the stones while water is poured over them and your wounds or illness will be healed.
Another legend is that ancient giants dancing got petrified and turned into these stones when they were caught in the sunlight.
Today most historians agree it’s probably a huge astronomical Observatory that measures the movements of the Moon, Sun and stars.
In 1897, in France, an ancient bronze calendar tablet was discovered. It was called the Sequani Calendar. This calendar makes it easier for us to understand the stone circles at Stonehenge. The outer circle is used to count the days in the year.
The next two circles are designated the lunar months. The inner circle, the Sarsen Stones, symbolizes the 29.5 nights of the months. The impressive Trilithon Horseshoe represents the phases of the Moon, and the Year Dial of stones within them is used to count the 19-year circle of 235 months.
I bet if Adam Skai had been here with me, he could have told me even more about Stonehenge. He would have liked this place.
In the evenings we could lie on the grass and look up at the sky. Then when he started kissing me I could have seen even more stars.
I can hear his voice inside my head: “Don’t forget –we both carry alien DNA and Friday the 13th is your lucky day.”
The chef who is going to tell us the secrets of pit cooking looks like a chef should. He has the tall white chef’s hat on, rosy cheeks and is kind of roly-poly.
I don’t know why, I just don’t trust a skinny cook. Because it makes me wonder, does he ever taste his own cooking? Doesn’t he like to eat? Is he sick? And so on… no, better roly-poly.
We had to walk 15 minutes from our tepee to get to the site where the pit cooking is going to take place. It looks as if they have turned the soil upside-down because there is no grass, only gravel and stones.
I guess they didn’t want to have anything nearby that could catch fire.
A small earth-digging machine has made two holes in the ground approximately 1.5 by 2 meters and one meter deep.
They look like graves. All they need now is a corpse.
We all sit down on the mud banks and look down into the pit.
The chef starts talking “First we will line the pit with large stones about the size of a soccer ball, they will even out the heat and hold it in. Be careful never to use rocks that have been in salt water, like the ocean, because they can crack or even explode! We will then fill the pit with a heap of coal and some logs. It will take about 24 hours before it is ready for cooking and it will take another 12 hours before the meat is ready to eat.”
While he is talking, we can see some workers with wheelbarrows filled with stones coming towards us. Some people get up to make room for them to tip the stones into the holes.
The chef continues, “We are going to have one hog and a lamb. It’s important to tie the meat firmly. We will use chicken wire, but first we are going to cover them with banana leaves. This will give the meat some moisture and protection against the fire.
“It’s also important to let heat through the hog’s mouth. This is why the apple is traditionally put in the hog’s mouth. Then we will wrap the pig and the lamb into layers of aluminum foil to keep them nice and cozy for the 12 hours they have to stay there.
“I think we will even stuff a whole chicken inside the lamb and see how it turns out. We will also put onions and some spices inside the hog, then some veggies and sweet potatoes wrapped in foil.”
Oh, this is going to be delicious! It reminds me of the Hawaiian luau I was at in Maui two years ago.
“OK,” the chef is waving his arms, “why don’t we all chip in and help these guys with the stones, coal and lumber?”
We all scramble to our feet and start working.
Two hours later the pits are ready to be lit. They look like two large bonfires. We step back and gaze into the flames.
After a while the chef says, “Somebody must stay behind and watch the fire. I will be back in 24 hours to put the hog and the lamb into the pit. You are all welcome to come and watch. The important thing to remember then is to cover it all up so no air gets into the pit. The coals will remain hot for days. I wish you all Bon appétit!”
“Bon appétit!” We all yell back, with that, we all merrily and hungrily head back to our camp.
I, the foxy lady, now have a plan for how to get rid of Genie the brown-eyed good-for-nothing bastard.
I’ve told people small lies about him. Small complaints. Like he drinks too much, is clinging and obnoxious, but I also tell them, since it is only for a few days I will not fire him.
Genie is staying out of Lovise’s way, as he promised.
Lovise is spending most of her time with Irene and Lilliana; this gives me the opportunity I need to work on my evil plan.
I have Genie give me a massage twice a day now. He is becoming very familiar with my lean body, I can feel and hear how much he would like to get to know it even better.
We always have a few drinks afterwards. He has started to love my Cuba Libre. I pretend to like him a lot, cuddling and giving him small kisses.
When I return to my tent, Genie is ready for my rubdown.
“Listen,” I say, “I’ve been thinking. I don’t want you to tell anybody we are seeing each other. You know, I have some money and if it works out between us, I can send you a ticket and you can come and visit me in America.”
I move in very close to him and put my hands around his neck. “In the meantime why don’t we get together Friday night after the dinner, we could meet at the pit-cooking site, around 11 in the evening.
“Everybody will have left by then. You could just help dismantle the tents and then hang around until 11. I can drive you back to Southampton. I’ll bring some blankets and Bacardi, you can bring some Coke and your hot body.
“The coals will still be warm, so we can pretend we are on a camping trip.”
Genie dips his head into my hair; he is nearly drooling. “Oh, my God! I don’t think I can wait that long!”
I push him away, smiling cockily, “Oh, well, Genie, you just have to suffer until then. Now give me one of your magical massages.” My dress hits the floor. I’m not wearing anything underneath. I place myself on the bed.
The white chiffon lace hanging down from the canopy bed falls down around me.
From Genie’s view I must look like something straight out of Arabian Nights.
A happy moment with Eva, Billy Boy and Line.
Glade dager med Eva, Billy Boy og Line.
The chapter below is from the sci-fi, triller book Fear is in the Air by Eva Newermann
Outside, nine white, eye-catching Volkswagen Beetle limousines are waiting. They all carry two flags, one black and one white. The black flag symbolizes the deaths of Lillian and Dexter. The white flag symbolizes, the christening of Lilliana.
The cars following each other along the motorway are a spectacular sight. Each car seats six people.
The inside is spectacular too. Each is equipped with a beautiful bar and a silver champagne cooler. A vase with two roses is hanging over the window. The small TV screen/DVD player is mounted on the ceiling. It is showing a documentary from Stonehenge.
Between the seats is a gold telephone. The seats are made of leather, and so soft that when you sink deep into them, it’s hard to get up. But who would want to get out of this quirky car anyway?
The cortege of cars drives at a low speed on the motorway, so we can really enjoy the scenic English countryside.
Finally we can see our accommodations, the colorful tepees.
I will be sharing mine with Lovise. Our butler greets us in the tent. He is dressed in a red, open-neck silk shirt, black leather vest and black leather slacks. He has dark skin and, when he smiles, the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.
“Welcome! Welcome!” He takes our bags and leads us into the tent.
Lovise is in front of me, I can hear her gasp.
We are of course used to luxury, flying around the world, staying at five-star hotels, but when I enter the tent, I have to gasp, too.
It looks like a scene straight out from Arabian Nights. Including Genie’s oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. All the walls are painted to look like the inside of a cave. The cyclorama effect gives you a 360-degree view.
Hundreds of lit candles are placed near the ceiling and walls. No, wait a minute! They are not candles, but lights with a bulb inside that flickers like a candle.
Our butler takes a bow. “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders. You may call me Genie.”
Of course, this is from the story “Aladdin and the Genie.”
On the floor is a Persian carpet and piles of large colorful silk pillows. In the middle of the room, a table holds grapes, dates, nuts and oranges.
I can see some small treasure chests filled with faux jewelry, pearls, crystals, glitz and glam. They all sparkle from the lights.
Two laced chiffon draped canopy beds with elaborate red linens are standing next to a beaded curtain. When we slip through the beads we are inside the bathroom. There is a shower, a toilet and a sink. On the floor there is another beautiful Persian rug.
Lovise and I look at each other. Unbelievable! When we get back after our little sightseeing tour, our Genie has set up a massage table. “Who wants to be the first one for a rubdown?”
“I do! I do!” Lovise hollers and I let her.
Genie has also lit some incense sticks and the whole tent is filled with an exotic aroma. I go to my bed and just lie down on top of it, resting. I must have fallen asleep, but I wake up when Lovise shakes me gently.
“Your turn, Ewa,” she says and walks through the beads and into the bathroom.
“Please tell me a little about yourself while your fingers do the walking,” I say to Genie before I lie face-down on the table.
I just have to keep my eyes closed, so I don’t have to look into his ugly brown eyes.
Genie takes some aromatic oil on his hands and rubs it on my legs and starts working. He does have magical hands.
His voice is a little husky when he starts talking. “I was born in Egypt, a town called Alexandria.”
Hey, I once knew a good-looking Pharaoh, too bad he’s six feet under someplace now.
“I’m 24 years old and an exchange student. I study economy, I’ve got one more year left. I will go back to Egypt after graduation. I took this job to make some money. My parents are poor so I send them some money every month. I have an older sister and a twin brother. They still live with my parents. My hobbies are archery, horseback riding and girls.”
Not necessarily in that order, I bet.
“I don’t have a girlfriend right now, but I would really like to find somebody to marry.”
OK, so that’s his story. Nothing original. He does have good hands, though.
He works on me for an hour; Lovise is sound asleep when I go into the bathroom to take a shower.
I had told Genie to put the Do Not Disturb sign outside the tent. He promised nobody would disturb us until the next morning.
I sleep through the night without stirring, until I open my eyes and see Genie standing over Lovise’s bed, staring at her.
You’d better not get any sticky fingers here, Genie.
I turn towards them and he takes a step away from her bed.
“Oh, you’re awake? I was just going to wake you. Breakfast is nearly ready.” He walks to the door.
“I’ll bring the breakfast in 20 minutes. Do you want tea or coffee?”
“Give us one of each,” I say, while getting out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, two servants and Genie serve us breakfast. In actuality, it’s more like an Arabian Nights feast. They have lit real candles, all over the place and in all shapes and sizes. I get my exotic-smelling tea and Lovise gets her Arabic Coffee.
The coffee set looks to be made out of brass, but is fitted inside with a small china cup, which holds the coffee. There is also a serving tray, matching the cups, for the coffee. The coffee itself is made from freshly roasted and ground beans. My tea is called Arabic Chai and is served in a larger cup than Lovise’s.
Instead of the usual eggs, bacon and orange juice breakfast, we are getting something different.
It’s freshly baked pita bread with labneh. Labneh is soft cheese made from yogurt. There are also dishes with sliced tomatoes, salad leaves, chopped onion and tahini sauce. Tahini sauce is made from sesame seed paste, Genie tells us.
“This breakfast is called Alafel, in Egypt you have something similar called Taameya,” I say to Genie. “I had that last time I was in Egypt.”
Genie nods and puts a beautiful silk napkin into Lovise’s lap.
Didn’t his hands rest there a little too long?
Then he squeezes her shoulder, looks deep into her eyes and says, “Have a wonderful breakfast…and maybe somebody would like a massage afterwards?”
Lovise blushes, stammering, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe later.”
Genie smiles at us both and walks out of the tent.
“Well, well, well,” I snicker, “I think our Genie is getting a little fresh out of the lamp.”
Lovise, saying noting, starts to eat.
What do I know? Maybe she likes the attention? I’d better shut up.
While we are using pieces of the pita bread to scoop up the veggies and labneh, I say, “By the way, do you know how the pita gets the pocket in the middle?”
Lovise looks up and smiles “No, but I’m sure you, the walking encyclopedia, will tell me.”
“Oh, this I learned at a bakery in Egypt. You put steam into the dough, which puffs it up. When the bread cools, a pocket is left in the middle.”
“Lucky for us,” Lovise grins, and fills her pita with goodies.
After breakfast we go outside and into the large tent. James, Irene and Lilliana are sitting at one of the tables, together with Liz, the girl who has managed to arrange all this.
“Liz!” I pull her out of the chair and hug her “This is so fantastic! I could never imagine anything like this! I don’t know how I can ever thank you!”
Liz is laughing, “Oh, don’t worry. Just wait until you get the final bill!”
Now nearly all our guests are in the tent. They also are raving about the accommodations, food and servants.
On a big billboard is our itinerary for the following days. This evening there will be three different events to choose from. Since we are living in tepees there will be a one-hour lecture on how the Native American Indians lived.
The second event is storytelling from “1,001 Arabian Nights.”
The third is a lecture from the Summer Solstice Sunrise over Stonehenge.
They all sound interesting, so I decide to attend all three.
The next day, which would be the nineteenth century, there is a scheduled helicopter tour. If you don’t like flying, you can go on a limo sightseeing tour, which includes local bar hopping.
Since I’m in the air most of the time, the bar hopping ride sounds good to me.
The June 20 event is billed as everything you always wanted to know about pit cooking but was afraid to ask. We’ll all be students of pit cooking, preparation and execution.
The tepees have to be disassembled and removed by June 22.
That’s why everybody is going to stay in a hotel the last night before flying back to Miami.
Most of the guests choose to stay in Southampton, close to the airport. I, on the other hand, have booked a room close to Stonehenge. This is a hotel that had been built using some of the stones taken from Stonehenge.
Every day now, our butler, Genie, has been behaving like a horny, sex-starved jackass.
Lovise has finally had enough of his insinuations and comes crying to me. “Ewa, I just can’t take it anymore! What a jerk! He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
I pull her into my arms and talk soothingly. “Don’t you worry, Lovise, I will take care of the problem.”
This butler doesn’t know who he is dealing with. Instead of “the butler did it,” maybe I should do the butler?
He has been coming on to me too. This guy should be easy prey.
Lovise has finally calmed down and I go looking for my Genie. He will need a big lamp to get out of this trouble. I find him in the main tent and have him sit down at a table.
“Do you know who I am?” I’m forcing a smile. Genie looks at me a little puzzled.
“Well… You are Ewa.”
“That’s right, I’m Ewa. Ewa Lowe, and I’m the one who is paying for everything. This is my party and I can hire and fire whomever I want.”
He looks a little worried, as I continue.
“Lovise has a boyfriend in America. They are going to get married soon. I don’t want you to bother her, or even talk to her in the next two days, is that clear?”
He nods, and looks like a puppy that has just been kicked.
“OK,” I go on, “now that’s out of the way, I would like you to give me a Swedish massage.” I get up from my chair, put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently, smiling. “I, on the other hand, like your company very much, and I’m free as a bird.”
Trying not to look too long into his ugly brown eyes, I start walking back to my tent, Genie following his master, of course. After the massage I mix us both Ewa’s easy-on-the-Coke Cuba Libre.
He takes his drink, saying, “I’d better be careful, I’m not used to hard liquor.”
“Don’t worry.” I lie, “It’s not very strong.”
A little plan is developing in my mind. Well, maybe not so little….