The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -18-

The Seattle police's detective unit was usually busy with detectives and officers talking, operating fax machines, tapping on computers, coming and going, but when Tina and Addy arrived at 8am, ready and waiting for jokes about why they were later than usual (It wasn't proper that a superior or any officer date another, but they all had tried to fix Addy up for years and when Tina became his partner they all saw the chemistry. They wanted Addy to be with someone. He was such a workaholic and Tina was becoming more like him each year, they were perfectionists and working around them just made the other detectives feel a bit insecure. A romance would settle them down, or so the other detectives believed, and they just seemed like they were the perfect match.) the office was eerily quiet and all the detectives were huddled in one corner, listening to Scarecrow. This is either really bad or really good, Addy thought.



"Chief, Tina, you're here!" several detectives chimed. "Scarecrow has some news about the blogger murder weapon." The group moved apart so Addy and Tina could get nearer Scarecrow.



Scarecrow was dressed in tight jeans and had a nice body that her coroner's white outfit usually hid. "I received some photos from several other heads and the weapon had 18, not 17 ridges on it. That was very significant to Dr. Emrich. Something to do with dispersing of electricity. It appears it was some type of battery charger." Just then Dr. Emrich entered the room and all eyes turned towards him.



"Indeed. And it could not have carried many volts, but they would have to be concentrated. Enough to charge a car battery, and that small size would generate enough heat to cause the slight burning of the skin on the head. And when quickly removed, as with a swift blow, would not burn the hair," said Dr. Emrich in his usual calm, and unquestionable voice.



Tina grabbed Addy's arm and said, "Like something to charge an electric wheelchair?"



Dr Emrich paused to consider that and said with certainty, "Yes."



Under her breath she said to Addy, "David, I saw something that size, with a cord plugged into the wall and Diane's wheelchair, when we were in her apartment."



"Thank you Dr. Emrich, Scarecrow, Detective Reed and I have a call to make to a woman who blogs Brass and Ivory, and then we will be stopping by Diane's retirement building. Keep running the chart of murder locations and somebody reel Weeble in. I want him back here before 7AM tomorrow. I think we may be about to wrap this up," and with that Addy and Tina headed for the third floor conference room.



The third floor was where the psychologists lived. the lie detectors, the occasional psychic--truth finders, people-readers, lie-catchers. While Detective Addison didn't believe his own statement that he was "about to wrap this up," he DID have a hunch that the murderer was about to be revealed. He felt it in his gut.



"David, you think Diane did it? asked a confused Tina.

"I don't see how, but that cord could be used to swing a charger hard enough to kill a person, if the killer knew where to hit. Every victim was hit about the same area of the skull."

"David, maybe that MS doctor, Viv Walters, would know why that area was hit."

Addy stopped in his tracks and turned toward Tina, causing her to bump into him. "T, I would rather talk to Weeble all day than talk to her for a min...min..." If I took her right here, right now... "David? David?" "Uh, um, sorry, my mind just went blank." Tina smiled. "You were saying you didn't want to talk with Dr. Walters."



When they got to the conference room, Tina wondered how long before David would stop being nervous around her. They had made such passionate love the night before and cuddled for an hour before leaving the bed to start their work day. He wasn't nervous then. He was starting to relax into her. Starting to believe she loved him. He even spoke of his desire to marry, settle down, buy a real house with a yard, a tree of his own, maybe have a kid; and how long he had waited to meet someone just like her.



A large table in the rear of the room had several recording machines, head sets, and computers sitting on it, along with about 10 different varieties of phones. This was where they would speak to the blogger who was in charge of a MS blog called Brass and Ivory, referring to horns and piano keys, they supposed, since her blog mentioned she taught music.

A tall, olive-skinned woman, with long black hair, very athletic looking, but with feminine curves in all the right places was adjusting the large screen computer for Skype. She stood when she saw Addison. "David! How wonderful to see you. You are always so very busy," she purred in a heavy Russian accent, "we must have dinner again soon, my love."

Addison turned bright red and Tina felt bright red hot. "Hello, Nadja. This is my partner, Tina Reed. Tina, Nadja Yse Roper, Mrs. James Roper. We all attended the University of Washington a few years ago, Dr. James was the speaker. How is James, Nadja?" Tina released the breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Oh, so nice to meet you, Tina, and my darling James is busy as ever. Such a speaker. Oh, to speak as he does, wonderful. David your call is ready."

The detectives walked around the table and saw a woman's face on the computer screen. "Talk anytime, my loves." said Nadja.

Addison had only used Skype once before. "Hello. Lisa from Brass and Ivory? This is Chief Detective, David Addison from Seattle. May I ask you a few questions?"

Lisa's big eyes starred directly into the camera. "Yes. Of course. I want to help you in any way I can."

"Great. You have a MS blog correct?"
"Yes, I do."
"Have you heard of A Stellarlife?"
"Yes, that would be Diane's blog."
"You list many blogs on yours, do you know the individual bloggers fairly well?"
"Yes and no. Some I would certainly call true friends, and some I only know from reading their blogs or seeing their comments on mine."
"And you live in Falls Church?"
"Yes."
"A blogger named Mic Rockhill was found dead there by a little girl, Michelle Rockhill and her blog was called "Dreaming of Palm Springs," she had MS. Did you know HER personally?"
"No, I did read about that though."
"Oh, strange a woman with MS in your same city, yet you had never heard of her blog. Isn't that strange?"
"I'm sure there are many, many MS bloggers I don't know and maybe her blog just started..."
"We deleted it for research purposes. But, she had been blogging for over five years."
"I guess it is like your job. Do you know every private detective in Seattle?"
"Actually, I do."
"Am I under suspicion, Mr. Addison?"
"No, no more than anyone, we just are trying to connect the dots. How well do you know Diane?"
"Just from her blog. And I stopped by her retirement residence with a few other bloggers during a stop over on my our way to a cruise."
"Did you enter her apartment?"
"Yes, for a few minutes."
"You saw her in her wheelchair?"
"Yes, she has a power chair."
" She can't walk at all?"
"No, no, I'm petty sure that she can't. If you read her blog, she writes about that."
"Who were the other bloggers there, in her apartment?"
"Jen, Webster, Gretchen is a blog reader with MS...that's it. It was a short visit."
"Where dies Jen live?"
"New Jersey." Nadja was recording all the information.
"Webster?"
"Seattle. No, Tacoma."
"Gretchen?"
"Seattle."
"Many of the murdered bloggers are listed on Diane's blog. And yours too. Strange isn't it?"
"Bloggers with MS will likely appear on many of the same blogs."
"How do you decide, your lists?"
"I think we all decide based on our own reasons, we like the blog, I list as many as I can to expand and connect the MS community."
"Not all of the murdered bloggers had MS or MS blogs."
"Diane does link to many other types of blogs than I do. She has political blogs, gay blogs, blogs of interest to her."
"And she has a 100 chronic illnesses list."
"Oh, yes."
"Pretty gloomy stuff to read, isn't it, Lisa?"
"No, I wouldn't say that. Most blogs inspire and make us feel we are not alone. I find it uplifting."
"Lisa, one last question, do you have any thoughts on who the blogger killer might be?"
"I have thought about it and no, I really don't. I wish I had more to tell you."
"Thank you for your time, Lisa. By the way you have a very nice blog. I'm sure it is a great help to many people."
"Thank you, Mr. Anderson."
"Addison. Good bye, Lisa."
"Oh, sorry, Addison. Bye."

A machine next to Nadja began humming. Tina walked up to Addy and stunned him by reaching out to hold his hand. Their hands felt so good together--fit just perfect. "Anything, Nadja?" Addison asked.

Nadja held a long paper that the machine had printed out. "Darling, it looks like she was truthful in all but one sentence."

Addison let go of Tina's hand and moved closer for a look: "I thought about it and no, I really don't. I wish I had more to tell you."

"Looks like Lisa is hiding something. Addy, doesn't Weeble know something about New Jersey?"
Tina asked.
"Yes, he better. I need to see Diane's power chair now. Let's go. Take Care, Nadja, say hi to James."
"My darling David, I will give him a big kiss from you and your Tina. Until we meet again, Darlings."

Lisa sat alone at her computer. Did he believe her? What would she do next?

MS Word of the Day: LIFT CHAIR

This a lift chair. I first needed one after I had been diagnosed with MS about 13 years. I started having difficulty rising from the bath tub, then sitting up in bed, finally getting up from a chair became impossible. Enter a lift chair. I found one at a small, local medical supply store. The cost was around $1.200. My good, City of Seattle insurance would only cover the cost of the motor--a couple hundred dollars and I needed a prescription. Can you but just the motor? Of course not. I see so little sense in the insurance coverage, the same to this day, it is like only covering the cost of the batteries on a power chair--ridiculous.

My next lift chair I paid for myself, ordered on line from Spin Life. I have had only a great experience with Spin Life, their customer service was excellent. I chose the color/pattern of fabric I wanted and it arrived in a few weeks, two men put it together from the delivery company and placed it right where I wanted it.

The brand is Golden, and their direct customer service has been excellent too. The gears (motor) have a long warranty. My previous chair worked fine when I donated it to a local MS support, group the fabric had just worn old and I wanted a fresh one for my fresh life at the assisted living home. The current chair is fancier and pricier, I think around $2,000 total, but since I now sleep in it, I needed a full recline and both chairs had "infinite" positions. They really do. Why is that important? To prevent bed sores. Six years and I have skin as pure as a baby's butt.

You press buttons to raise and lower the chair. It can stand you straight up or take you to the Tredelenberg (see previous MS Word of the Day, or Google it), basically verging on upside down for the body. You can move just your head back, lift just your feet and legs up or sit as if in a regular chair.

My current chair started "acting up" a few weeks ago, probably sooner. About 4 months my partner and I were talking and we heard something metal hit our wood floor, followed by a rolling sound. A screw fell from somewhere, but WHERE? A friend stopped by and search our power chairs, end tables, the lift chair, but no sign of a missing screw. Then a few weeks ago, TWO more appeared on the floor one day! By now my chair was screwed up (no pun, you know, intended), it could not sit me up straight and thudded into a few positions. I called Golden, they pulled me up on their computer, assured me that the chair was under warranty and they sent a local man to fix it.

He arrived from Wheels To Go in Seattle! I had never heard of them, who knew?! A son and pop operation, me thinks. Of course, when Steve arrived the chair would NOT thud into position. Grrr, then he did not recognize the screws. After moving it up and down a few million times (about 30), it happened, but not as severely as it had and I couldn't express how "off" it felt. He turned it upside down and kept searching; I immediately believed I saw where it was "off," but Steve couldn't. (Not for nothing, I turned out to be exactly right.)

Steve finally found the problem: 3 screws had fallen out. (DUH) He needed a tool that someone had borrowed from him, but he drove immediately back to his store and returned in less than 20 minutes. The chair is good as new now and Steve tighten those screws super strong. No charge.

That is a lift chair. I could not survive without it and now I can get back to my life.

Golden 1-800-624-6374 and visit online/

Wheels To Go 206-622-2662 in Seattle///They repair power chairs too!

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -17-

FBI agents Kris Shepherd and Jake Lyon walked into the Seattle police headquarters like they owned it. Both were seasoned, Kris married in California to her partner of 14 years and Jake divorced three times. He didn't believe in gay marriage and Kris didn't believe in him, but they had been partners for 5 years and had a 100% success rate of closed cases. Captain Herrad met them, and took them straight to detectives Addison and Reed. The four updated each other and the Addison/Reed team were fuming early on--several unknown murders that they had not been told about. The FBI was not known for its helping hand to local police.

While they were reading reports, Captain Herrad entered Addison's office. "Excuse me, Chief Addison, do you know where Detective Weeble is? I haven't seen him for two days now. Vacation?"

Tina spun around toward Addy and Addy looked at her with wide eyes, then quickly looked back calmly at the captain. "He has been working in the field for a few days. he should be back by tomorrow. Something I can do?"

"No, just his car got towed. I'll have Johnson get it back," then under his breath as he left, "Figures."

The FBI agents cleared their throats simultaneously, "May we continue? Or do you need to get another detective's car out of impound first?" Addison's cell began to buzz. He glanced at it. It was speak of the oh-hell-I forgot-Weeble!

"Reed, I'll be right back, Keep our agents entertained a minute. Order some cookies and milk if need be." With that snide come back, he left the room and answered the call, "Weeble! Where the hell are you?"

"Boss, I just arrived in New Jersey, had to take a train half way, but the car is fine, listen I think I found something. They have a murder here, some MS blogger may have seen the perp and I found some surveillance cameras in the area. Should I get the tapes and bring them back or turn them over to Jersey? They are totally Snookie here."

Addison had no idea what Shookie meant, but Weeble seemed pretty sure he had something of value. "Bring them back. Take a plane. Talk to that MS blogger if you can. Listen, the FBI are here, I gotta go." "10-4, Boss. See ya soon." Snapping the phone shut, Addison walked back into his office. Agent Lyon was standing much too close to Tina. He had his hand on her back as she was bending over the desk, showing him her fake MS blog.

The New Jersey police had a problem. There was a woman who thought she saw someone in a wheel chair swing something and hit a person down, but no body was located, no missing person reports, and the woman had MS--who knows what she saw or didn't see. The Governor's wife had MS though and he was calling them for updates on a weekly basis. Every police dept. across the U.S. and Canada now knew about the MS Blogger murders, but none of them knew all the facts. Each knew some. Such is the state of security in our world. Many facts, but never all in one place. The promise of computers making our world one, has failed law enforcement horribly.

In New York City's East Village, not far from 10th street and 2nd avenue, rats were feasting on the remains of a dead 40-something caucasian man. He would be found shortly and no one would connect him with the blogger murders. The brilliant plan of the murderer had worked. And on the dead man's skull would be an ever fading impression of 18 lines.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -16-

Addison finally finished his thought, "What if this killer has nothing to do with blogs or MS? Like that crap of a car, maybe the killer is driving us in the wrong direction. Maybe the MS bloggers, all the bloggers are not the reason for the killer to have killed. Maybe, just maybe, they are all being framed. How did they strike you on that blog you started?"



Tina sat in a chair in front of Addy's desk. "They were all very nice, caring, seemed to want to take me under their wing. I read many of their blogs and some of them brought tears to my eyes. I never understood MS was so life altering. They never know what symptom they will have day to day and they worry about losing their jobs. One woman was deaf too, and her daughter had died, heavy duty stuff, but she still writes and has humor. I could never deal with all they go through."



"Well, what about that woman. Pretty full plate. Couldn't such stress lead them to strike out?"



"David, I really tried to get them to say they were full of rage or violent. I even commented to some lesbian about how she should turn to Jesus. What did she do? SHE went over to MY blog and made a really caring comment about what I had said about Bette being angry!"



"Who is Bette?"



"That was my blog name. It was the name of a cat I had when I was little. Anyway, you may be right. What if the murderer is just leading us into this blog world and all the dead bloggers are collateral damage? If that is true, our murder could be ANYBODY."



Taking a long sigh, Addison began chewing on an antique he kept on his desk--a pencil. "Yes and no. This person HAD to know all these bloggers and again the only place they all live are on that Diane's blog. Do we know SHE isn't using her cat's name?"



Laughing, Tina said, "I got pages of info on her from Swedish hospital, her soc, date of birth, all fits. Most of these bloggers also are on Face Book and THAT is loaded with personal identifying info. Kaleidoscope went through thousands of comments there and found nothing but talk of cooking, MS, trips, family, current events, nothing that screams murderer."



"Okay, what if I, or some guy who sells cars, just Googled this Diane, found her blog and started his murder spree on her peeps, and then he kills his real victim. It just seems so random," Addison said between chews.



"I would agree, except that it wasn't, random, if it were Muff would have found a ISP computer address trace on one that was different from the others. He didn't find that, only when she had readers from other countries, besides Canada, and they were few. To know where to find the victims, the murderer had to visit Diane's blog often. That narrowed it down to her links and blogs she commented on. David, the murderer is on her blog. Has left a comment on her blog. The answer is there, we just have to find it. But, you may be right about the motive. It may have nothing to do with MS." Tina ran her fingers through her long, blonde hair, that was HER stress reliever. Addison couldn't help noticing and his pencil dropped out of his mouth. God, she is so sexy. Should I bring up last night? Did it thrill her like it thrilled me?



He just dropped his pencil. He is so cute when I make him nervous. Should I bring up last night? Was I too aggressive? I didn't want it to end. Did it thrill him like it did me? He is so sexy.



At the same time they said each other's name aloud. Then, at the same time, "Yes?" Then at the same time they laughed. "T, I really loved I shouldn't have said love d last night. I wondered if you are free tonight? We could go to Anthony's on the waterfront. I mean, if you want. I mean,"



Tina stood and reached her finger to his lips, "I would love to," then she held her finger on his lips, lightly rubbing across them until he open his mouth just enough to take her soft index finger and mate it with his tongue. His body temperature was rising when Captain Herrad pushed the heavy office door open. Addison stood so fast that Tina was pushed backwards and almost fell.

"Am I interrupting anything of IMPORTANCE?" the captain shouted. They both shook their heads no.



"Well, that's too bad, I was hoping you had good news about the blog murderer! I want this man found, YESTERDAY. Lorraine Nixon just chewed me out, ever been chewed out in sign language?! A deaf friend of hers was just found murdered by a hit to the head and she had a blog AND MS AND WAS DEAF!" He gritted his teeth, "You find this monster and you work 24/7 until you do!" and as he turned he slammed the heavy door shouting, "And keep it zipped Addison or YOU will be driving to New Jersey in a '73 VW!"

Not such a bad car, Addison thought.

Jen, Hi, It's Lisa. Keep getting cut off cell. U OK?
Lisa, I'm OK. I saw a murder! I was scared and didn't report it.
Jen, Julie here, are they charging you?
Jul, no, let me go.
Did you see the person?
It was dark. But I saw a moving w/c.
Moving?
Fast. Like electric maybe.
There have been blogger murders all over.
In Canada even.
Yes.
I heard that too.
I know. Police think I saw the blogger murderer.
No!
Yes!
Oh, Jen. Be careful.
Did they see you?
Man or woman?
I don't think they saw me. I had been at a MS event tho.
M or F?
Couldn't tell.
Rob just came in. Have to go. Be careful, Jen.
Thanks I am scared.
Yes, be aware.
I will. I AM. XXOO
XXOO
XXOO
XXOO
xxoo
XXOO to ur hubby and kids 2

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -15-

Diane was happy to get her laptop back, but not happy that she had to change all her passwords and accounts. She got the promised new laptop however, and it was a much nicer one. Detective Reed said they had no new leads but if she came across anything suspicious to let her know; Diane agreed. Diane had become very disturbed about the blogger murders. She wondered if she should gather the bloggers on her links together in a virtual manhunt, but Tina thought that would be a bad idea. Tina said they had a few tricks and that the Seattle police would catch the killer. Diane recalled how long that had been said about Ted Bundy and the Green River Killer--too long. Maybe she could at least email a few blogger friends. All her peeps were so nice though...so honest and real. Who among them could possibly murder?



That night Tina sat at her home desk and began a blog. It would be a MS blog. The killer was out there. She had no idea how to begin. KNOCK KNOCK It was 9pm, who could that be? She peered into her door's peep hole. It was Addy. "Pizza delivery!" He tried using a fake voice. Good thing he never went into acting.



Tina opened the door. "Hi Addy."

"Hi, I thought we could share a pizza. They were on sale and I can't eat the whole thing."

"Uh-huh, aren't they always on sale?"

"Okay, I'm busted. I wanted to dine with a beautiful woman," he said as he opened the pizza box and set it on her leather cubes which served as her coffee table. He turned and looked seriously at her. "Is it okay? I can leave."

She smiled. "I would love to dine on this gourmet food with such a handsome man. Besides, I need some help."

Oh boy, it worked! "I'm your man. what's up, T? Can I call you T?"

He's getting personal, progress! "Certainly, can I call you, David?"

"You may, T."

"Thank you, David. I need a name for a MS blog. I need a cover to get into this blog world."

"A name...I'm not good with names."


"OH! Sorry!" David dropped a slimy, tomatoey pepperoni pizza slice on Tina's white plush carpet.

Together they raced to clean it up, knocked heads as they fell smack into the gooey mess. David felt awful, but T was laughing hysterically. "I'll pay the cleaning bill." Tina ignored him and just kept laughing as she sat on the floor, so hard that she fell back. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to suppress her laughs. David leaned over her on all fours, "Are you OK?" He pried her hand away, releasing more laughter which he closed with his own mouth over hers. When he lifted his head, she was not laughing and she grabbed his neck, pulling him closer. They would spend the night rolling in pizza dough and showering and rolling again in her bed.

Detective David Addison, Addy, was at his desk at 8am. "Addy! Man, are you late! Big date?" shouted detective Weeble, followed with laughter and chuckles throughout the police office. Then Detective Tina Reed walked in and the room fell silent, so much so that she paused to look around, only to watch the other detectives quickly turn away. They know.

"Detective Reed, Captain was looking for you...he was looking for Addy too. You two might want to see him. He thought something may have happened to you guys, but we told him that you watch out for each other, kind of like those penguin lovers at the ZOO!" Weeble almost fell over laughing, while the rest just held it in as Chief Addison was already glaring at them.

Addison walked to the center of the room. "Weeble, go get the facts on this murder of a blogger. Take the blue Prius," and shoving the fax into Weebles well-nourished stomach, added, "It's in New Jersey, so I suggest you leave now." "NEW JERSEY?! I can't take a plane?"
"Budget, recession, Prius or walk." With that Addison walked toward the captain's office with Tina close behind.

"David, isn't the blue Prius signed for repairs?" Tina asked innocently.
"Yes it is. He might make it to Tacoma, but I doubt it. It turns in the opposite direction that you steer.

The captain wanted an update. The FBI were giving him heat. Addy and Tina tried to plead their case that they HAD a case. "I've started a MS blog. It should shake a few leaves loose," Tina said. "It's called Lost in MS Land. I already made some connections."
That seemed to satisfy the captain. It impressed Addy too.

"Tina, that's great. How can I see it?" Addy asked the woman he had ravished just hours before.
"You key in http://lostinmsland.blogspot.com/ and it pops up. Read it, I may have reeled a solid lead in. People from all over the U.S. and Canada have read it already," Tina said with a smile, a smile made more sweet by the soft kisses from the man just inches from her.

Suddenly Addison turned serious, he looked as if he were miles away. "Tina...what if...I just had a..." He was driving her crazy, "What? Had a WHAT?"

Hey. Hi. Lisa here. I just spoke to Jen. You were right. Let's have an open chat tomorrow. RSVP ASAP Love, Lisa With that the emailer hit SEND. Lisa knew there was much to be done.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -14-

When Addison and Tina got in the office, they had both made up their minds. There would be no more flirting or thoughts of dating until the case was closed. Another MS blogger had been found dead by a blow to the head, with the same weapon, this time in Virginia.



The office was crazy, full of a lap dance bust off Aurora Ave. Weeble just HAPPENED to need to use the soda pop machine dispenser on the booking floor. Addison knew all the girls by name. They blew kisses and shouted greetings as he passed by. There was Erika, Heather, Shannon, too-chested Stacee, sweet Char, Merry Marilyn and the hot charmer, Rainlillie. Rainlillie ran her hand down Addison's head and neck as he struggled to keep moving.



Tina didn't know why this bothered her so much, but it did. She stood at the elevator, glaring at Addison. "What?" he asked innocently.



"Maybe you would like to get back into Vice. You seem to miss it," she snapped.

The elevator opened and they stepped in. He stood in front of her, placing his hands around both sides of her, leaning against the back wall. He had something to say, but his mind went blank when he looked into her eyes for what seemed like hours, then he kissed her on her soft lips. He pulled back, she seemed not to mind, so he kissed her again, longer, harder, deeper and she was kissing him back. "Uh-hem!" The elevator doors had opened and Dr. Emrich was waiting on the detectives since 5am.



After regaining a professional demeanor of composure, the two dazed kissers walked coolly off the elevator into the cloud of Dr. Emrich's chuckles. "Good morning...um..." "Andy, " said Dr, Emrich still smiling. Addison adjusted his tie, "Andy. What you got?" Tina trailed the two men and stopped to drink from the water fountain.



"Well, the laptop is not the murder weapon. The imprint is very unique to the board it sits on to disperse the battery heat. It is not the same pattern at all. The weapon had to be more compact than that laptop. It was about 7 inches long and 3 wides, the pattern has 17 horizontal lines across it. My son, Muff, is going through all the contents of the computer, but so far nothing unusual, as he put it, for a blog. She often criticizes large pharmaceutical companies and many drugs on the market. She could have enemies, yet she has not yet been targeted. Sometimes suspects are caught by process of elimination, like many diseases if the 21st century. Use caution around her."

Mufford J. Emrich, "Muff" was a genius in his own right. An Oxford scholar who dropped out in the '60s and began his own computer security company before the world knew such a service was so crucial. Every software company that would emerge had wooed him, but Muff became immersed in his father's research and made his fortune by freelancing. Money meant little to either of them, they left the check book balancing to their loving wives. It surprised many that both were happily married, since neither had skills in reading people or natural human interactions. "Hi, Pop, Addy, Tina, I'm basically finished with this, if you want to return it. You will be able to access her blog comments and email, her Face Book and all her Twitter communications, public and private. I wish I had something of significance for your case, but nothing except that every murder was done to a blogger who has commented on, or linked to her blog, plus a few she commented on. They intertwine and several are different blogs but the same person writes them, under a pseudonym. Some have had blogs they shut down. I checked them all. Kaleidoscope helped me."

He handed the laptop to Addison. Kaleidoscope got her nickname for two reasons: 1.) She was as beautiful as any Greek goddess and 2.) She could take a jumble of facts and in short time put them together to make a whole, she was a speed reader, held the record at Harvard.

Muff married her the year he met her.

"Thanks, we will do the foot work now," said Addy. Tina wanted to look into the blog world more, start her own blog, link to Diane's links, pretend she had MS. The killer was in that world somewhere and she was determined to find him or her. It sure would help if they could figure out the murder weapon. She walked next to Addison, back to his private office. "Addy, can I return the computer to Diane?"

He pulled his desk chair out and sat down heavily with a sigh. "Fine. Why?"
"I felt kind of bad taking it the way we did. It has to be a big part of her life. I just want to, problem?"
"Not at all. Go now, if you want. I need to call Virginia, there was another murder there with the same weapon and a dead woman with MS. I need Weeble to make a chart of the cities, times, dates, maybe we can figure out how this person travelled across country and into Canada. Someone put a lot of thought into all this. Right now, everything is so...scattered."
Tina picked up Diane's laptop. "Just like the pieces in a kaleidoscope," she said to no one in particular as she left Addy's office.

Addison watched her leave, watched her until she was out of sight. I kissed her. I just kissed her. And she kissed me back. I think she liked it. I think she likes me.

Tina headed for her car. She would need to stop at Computer World and pick up a 2011 laptop, just like she promised Diane. He kissed me. He finally kissed me. It was everything I hoped it would be. Will he ask me out now? I'm not making any more moves. Did he like it? I think he did. God, what have I gotten myself into?

"Hello? Hello? Homicide."
"Oh, sorry, I, I, was asking about a friend who called me and..."
"You the one asking about Jen?"
"Yes. My name is Lisa..."
"Just a second."
Lisa felt like that was more than a New Jersey minute.
"Lisa?!" It was Jen.
"JEN! Are you okay? The phone cut you off. I've been worried sick."
"Oh, Lisa, I'm so sorry. I needed a friend to talk to who would understand."
"What Jen?"
"I saw a murder and I ran. I was so scared and then I didn't report it right away. I know I should have. I was attending a seminar on MS in the East Village and..."
In the background a man was shouting to Jen that he needed the phone.
"Lisa, I'll call you back as soon as I get a chance, okay?"
"Sure Jen, what..." The line cut off again.
Rob had been hearing Lisa's side of the call. "What's going on, Lis?"
"Jen said she saw a murder! I need to send an email." And with that Lisa headed off to her computer.

Seattle Sun Break from Writing

Taking advantage of a rare sunny day in Seattle. 31 years of conversations, we will never be that couple sitting with nothing to say. Tomorrow--back to more murders as the police close in. Have you guessed the weapon yet? Amazing and somewhat disconcerting how much information I can get about YOU. What have we bloggers and FaceBookers and Twitters wrought? Makes one stop and think.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -13-

Within seconds, Tina heard sirens in the distance, police cars. "I'm a police officer," she announced, while a tall man in a guard uniform began unlocking the building doors, "my badge is on my belt."



"Just raise your hands slowly above your head."



Tina was turning red with anger, where was Addy? She would kill him for this.



A police car arrived and two officers took over. One held a gun on her while the other searched her and removed her badge and sidearm. The man with the gun to her head was a local hired-guard. The lobby began to fill with seniors and police, guards, and a man wearing a white shirt slipped past them all and around a corner to a stairway. No one noticed him, but Tina. She suddenly became slightly dizzy and slumped to the floor, causing more confusion as the police were calling to confirm her identity.



Addison made his way to the third floor, but being on a hill, it was also the first floor of the second part of the large building. Think of ascending steps. A man in pajama's wearing a Mariner's baseball cap and using his cane like a bat, was coming out of his unit.

"Sir, excuse me, do you know where Diane lives?"



It would be almost ten minutes before Addison made it to Diane's unit. He felt like he had just ran a maze. He crept silently as close to the door as he could, and listened--not a sound, but a light was on. It was 10:14pm. He knocked hard on the door. No sound from inside. Then, "Who is it?!" A woman's voice, strong, spoken with authority. Addison wished Tina were with him.



"Seattle police. Detective David Addison. May I come in? I need to speak to Diane Standiford."

He could see now that an eye was looking through the peep hole. A gentler woman's voice said, "Show some ID."

"Addy held his pocket ID card to the peep hole." Then HE felt a gun at his head and a man's voice, "Now what do YOU want?"



After showing his ID to the building security, Diane's door opened. There sat a woman in a power chair, holding a cell phone. She was talking to someone. "Go ahead and show her up," she said and looking at Addison, "Is your partner Tina?"

Wow, Addison thought, this woman had her guard up and was not a push over. Traits of a murderer. "Yes. Tina Reed. May we come in? I just have a few questions about some murders we are investigating, murders of MS bloggers." Diane's left eye brow raised.



Tina arrived, introductions were made, Diane had a partner who sat quietly, while Addison described the investigation. Tina couldn't help noticing an impression on Diane's leg.



"Diane, what is that mark on your leg?"

Diane looked down, "Oh, that is from my laptop. Where I write my blog." Diane pointed to the computer next to her lift-chair.



Tina asked if she could take a photo of it. Diane was puzzled as to why they would need such a photo, but said, "Sure." Then the photo was taken. "HEY!" Diane exclaimed, "I thought you wanted a photo of my computer. You took one of my leg, why?"



Tina looked at Addison and he at her, with a nod. Diane pushed forward as much as she could on her broken lift-chair. "You suspect I am involved with these murders? Seriously? In the east, in Canada? I can barely make it to my own bathroom. Look, I get that these dead bloggers were on my blog, maybe I even met one, but watch me lift my laptop, I can barely lift it. If you are right, hey, I could be next, but please don't waste your time on me." Tina looked at Karenlee.



Karenlee said in a low voice, "I can't even LIFT her laptop. This is how high my arm goes." She lifted it chest high.



Addison jumped in, "Do you have any idea who might do this? Any bloggers who seem strange or full of rage? Any threats or ones who you might consider we check out? Your blog is the only thing that seems to connect them all."



Diane looked him in the eye while thinking. Tina asked Karenlee, "Why are the bookcases so far from the wall?" Sweetly, Karenlee responded, "To keep them off the baseboard heaters."

Any strange bloggers...that made Diane laugh, on the inside. Her blog championed those who were strange in the eyes of puritan America. Full of rage? She encouraged the exploration and release of rage, after all many of her peeps had chronic illnesses or were liberals, conservatives, gays, outcasts from Normal, U.S.A. Threats? Never. They were bright, passionate, lost and found; but, threatening? Never. Who among them could murder another blogger?

"Detective Addison, in a word--no." They all sat in silence. Then Addison spoke.
"We will need to take your laptop in for evidence. We need to go over all of your comments and emails."
"Karenlee, " Diane said calmly, "would you grab that cap on the hat rack by the mirror, please."
Karenlee walked slowly to the hall and returned with a light brown cap, handed it to Diane, Diane put it on her head. It had four large letters on it: ACLU.
"Uh, no." Diane said to Addy.
"It is not negotiable," Addison said as firmly as he could.
"You got that right," replied Diane.
Tina stood. "Diane, why wouldn't you want to help us? I can see you truly care about your peas."
"Peeps," Addy quickly corrected.
"Peeps, and it would clear you so we could move on. The FBI may knock at your door next and another one of your blogger friends could be being murdered right now. I don't think you are involved, but I do think someone in there," she pointed to Diane's laptop, "IS. Help us help your friends."

Diane reached for a pad of paper on the end table next to her. She took a pen from her Seattle Art Museum mug and began writing. After several minutes, she handed the paper to Tina.
"Take it. Here are my passwords. Call me if you run into any problems. If I think of anything else I'll call you. Give me your business cards. And I want a new 2011 laptop to replace that one. Deal?"
Addison stood to pick up the computer, "We don't MAKE dea..."
"Deal," said Tina.

It was 8pm in Winchester, Virginia, Ann was late getting home from the PTA, school started on the 25th, she was very excited. Her husband had dinner waiting. Ann had been diagnosed with MS in 2004, life was tough, but she was strong and would make lemonade out of lemons. But on this night her dinner would not be eaten. The head wound would have a distinguishing mark. In Seattle, Detectives Addison and Reed could not know how close they stood to that which made such an impression. So close.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -12-

Seattle really had no Summer this year, tonight was especially cold and dark. Diane needed vitamin D from that orb, and boy was tonight dark, meaning it was full of moon covering clouds. Her lift chair had broken, it still moved up and down but not at a correct angle and when it tried to hit the upright position CLUNK and THUD, it would jolt her down into a worse position.

Not that Diane was one to complain. She liked the dark Seattle nights, the moist air--she felt safe in her new home at the retirement/assisted living community. Life was good. For a person with MS for most of her life, life was good. Others often would say to her, "At least you have Karenlee," her partner of over 31 years, as if she needed reminding; just once she wanted to retort, "I do?"

She couldn't type on her computer, but she could hold her Kindle, so she was reading quietly while her partner was beading in the den. A nice, dark, quiet evening, a pain in the ass, thought Detective David Addison. He was dressed in all black along with his detective partner, Tina Reed, sneaking around the grounds of Diane's retirement building. "Shit!" he whispered loud enough that Tina heard him.

"What?" she asked.
"This ground is so muddy. It feels like it wants my shoes."
Tina chuckled. "Don't be a baby, Chief Addison. This was YOUR idea. We could have called first and paid a visit."
"Shhhs, " he whispered as he approached a window. He was hunched over and began raising his head slowly.
"What do you see?"
"Nothing. White walls. Let's open this window and go in, it looks like a hall way." He pulled a metal tool from his coat pocket, slowly.
"STOP!" Tina shouted in a whisper. "Look, Brinks Security sticker. I see the wire inside."
As Addison pulled back he slipped, falling on his back on a pile of soppy sod. "Uhh"
"You ok? I really think we should try the front door. We can say we are relatives."

It took ten minutes to find their way to the front of the building. This building was not shaped like the Pentagon, but it was certainly a strange beast, with over four stories, several levels entrenched on a hillside and it was about two blocks long. Geometry had no name for its shape. The front area was well lit and they peered in from bushes planted near the entrance way. Tina was growing impatient. She stood and walked straight up to the front double glass doors. She pulled. They were locked. Looking inside she could see still more glass doors, but no people.
Then their eyes locked. It was a sweet little old lady with a walker, staring at Tina. Tina smiled with full dimples.

The lady said, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?! Tina began motioning behind her back for Addison to join her.

"My brother and I are here to see our mother." Addison didn't budge.
"WHAT?!"
"MY BROTHER AND I ARE HERE TO SEE OUR M O T H E R."
"WHO?!"
"O U R MOTHER!"
" STOP SCREAMING! I HEARD THAT. YOU AND WHO?!"
Tina sighed, "My," turning she saw Addison was still in the bushes, "could you let me in please?"
"WHO ARE YOU?!"
Tina decided this was going nowhere fast and Addy better forget ever dating her. She pulled back her coat, exposing her badge. "SEATTLE POLICE. LET ME IN."
The little old lady shook her head and began walking away, shouting, "TO HELL WITH YOU!"
"ARGH!" Tina shouted, before feeling a gun pushing against the back of her head. She had forgotten she had a black roll-cap on to hide her blonde hair. "Don't move a muscle," said a deep male voice.

MS Chair Down. Dagnabit

My apologies if subscribers got extra hits this day. Only an MSer can understand, but my lift-chair has broken, I can't sit up, and typing almost "blind" by angle. The repair has been promised by Tues...please bear with me. The mystery may take a hiatus. My typos are insane.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -11-

While Tina caught up on some much needed sleep, her partner and chief of detectives, Addison, began trying to reach his friend who knew Bill Gates. Brrrrring
"Hello?"
"Pete! How you doing? It's Addy."
"Who?"
"Addy...we coached little league together, Will Muffy? Oh, and we have the same parents."
"Ohhhh, Addy! Sure, wow, that was some game, home run by a 10 year old. I read Will plays at Stanford now. Good days. What's up?"
"I just needed to talk to Bill Gates."
"Excuse me? He's not here."
There was a long pause, followed by deep laughter.
"I thought you had a buddy that knew him so..."
"Oh, Max, yeah, well, Max is in prison now. Identity theft. I doubt he and Gates are friends anymore. Sorry. Some investigation? Did Gates rig that mansion of his? Not pay his phone bill?"
Both men laughed uncomfortably, forced laughter from the depths of a humorless joke.
Addison was anxious to end the call. "No, listen I've got to go, boss calling me. We will have to get together sometime, go to a Mariner's game."
The call ended with both knowing they would never speak again unless one was in trouble.

Weeble barged unto the office. "Hey, Addy! They're coming tomorrow."
Addison was so exhausted that he couldn't wait to get home to his Ikea bed. "Who?"
"The Mounties! We should wear our dress blues, right?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The freakin' Canada red suit, big hat MOUNTIES. They are real upset about those two blog murders up there," then to himself, "wonder if they will ride down..."
"Goodnight Weeble." Weary and sad that he had missed his date with Tina, Addy headed out as he watched Weeble struggling to prepare the dept. camera. Weeble was a celebrity hound and apparently the Canadian Royal Mounted Police were his target.

The latest victim in Canada was a woman from a blog called Drowsey Monkey. Which, Addison thought, was exactly what he felt like. But, before he went to bed he started his computer to look at A Stellarlife. He scrolled down and saw a list of blogs, some familiar names, this blog seemed to link to MS blogs AND other types too..."...Baptist...Baltimore...DROWSEY MONKEY"!
Holy shit, Addy thought, this might be the missing link.

The next day Weeble would be disappointed to greet the Ontario Provincial Police, or C.I.B (Criminal Invstigations Branch). No red jackets, no wide-brimmed hats, just regular police uniforms. When he not so subtly asked why they were not in red, he then got a lesson about Canada and why urban areas don't need men or woman on horses. Weeble was depresssed the rest of the week. Canada had no leads and were flummoxed by the rash and randomness of the murders. They wanted all the blog information that Seattle had.

Tina woke up rested and ready to check out A Stellarlife. Addy had emailed her about the Gates dead-end and it didn't seem the Miscrosoft blog was involved at all. If nothing else, the A Stellarlife blogger could provide more information and maybe, just maybe--they might have their murderer. A woman named Diane wrote the blog and she resided in an assisted living retirement community, just minutes from the police headquarters. Tina made sure her gun was loaded and she strapped a few extras to her arm and ankles, just in case. Even though Addy had indicated that Diane was "wheelchair bound," Tina wasn't trusting of these fake named bloggers from blogdom. Plus, this was the first break in the cases they had yet!

Det. Addison arrived to pick Tina up at 5pm. He wanted to make-up his lost sleep and they would be contacting Diane after dark. He wanted to check out the "retirement community" first, then surprise her with a visit. When Tina heard this, she turned to look at him, "But it won't be dark for another two hours at least."

"I know," her partner in crime answered, "we have a very important stop to make first."

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -10-

It was 11am when young Dr. Vivi Walters entered the Seattle police dept. main conference room. She carried a large brief case and had too many papers under her arm. Her soft, light brown hair caught Weeble's eye and he rushed to help her with her ready-to-fall papers. The rest of the detectives stayed seated. Det. Addison and Reed sat next to each other in fold up metal, regulation chairs. They could barely hold their heads up and only the double espressos kept their eye lids open. Pulling an all-nighter was easier when they were 21. Oh well, just a lesson about multiple sclerosis from a neurologist's assistant.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Walters, but please call me Vivi," she said with a hint of Texas and way too cheery for Addison's taste. Her brief case had a sticker across it that read: Tell someone you love them and smile!
With an obligatory bright yellow smiley face. "I'm here to answer all your questions about multiple sclerosis, or MS for short! First let me pass out some reading material. Could one of you nice policemen help me?"

"POLICEMEN!?" All the detectives, sat straighter as if they were readying for a punch. How dare she? they thought.

"Alrighty, let's get started. She looked down at papers in her hand and read with great speed, "Multiple sclerosis (MS) is a potentially debilitating disease in which your body's immune system eats away at the protective sheath that covers your nerves. This interferes with the communication between your brain and the rest of your body. Ultimately, this may result in deterioration of the nerves themselves, a process that's not reversible.
Symptoms vary widely, depending on the amount of damage and which particular nerves are affected. People with severe cases of multiple sclerosis may lose the ability to walk or speak. Multiple sclerosis can be difficult to diagnose early in the course of the disease, because symptoms often come and go — sometimes disappearing for months.
Although multiple sclerosis can occur at any age, it most often begins in people between the ages of 20 and 40. Women are more likely to develop multiple sclerosis than are men. The..."

Addison raised his hand. Vivi's eyes widen with glee, "Yes?"
"Does it mess with a person's mind?"
She looked at him as if he had green boomerangs growing out of his ears. "Excuse me?"
Addison sighed, "Could it make a person want to kill for no good reason? Make them insane. "
Viviv giggled nervously, "My, I have never heard of that symptom. Moods can be affected, but to murder someone? Murder by MS?" She started laughing now, a pig squealing shrill noise that the detectives had only heard from the insane before. She reached into her brief case, pulled out a book and began reading about MS symptoms. Weeble stood and walked out, turning back at the door and mouthing, "Cuckoo."

The MS expert spoke, actually, read for an hour, then left. Two of the defectives had fallen sound asleep, Tina had a red welt on her cheek from holding her head up, and Addison was thinking about why someone would kill people with nothing more in common than a blog. Tina was right, they needed to talk to a blogger. He went back to his desk and googled "Seattle MS Blogger." The first entry was a Microsoft Blog, the second was A Stellarlife.

"Tina, maybe the MS blog is a Microsoft blog...I found two I want to check out. I'll take A Stellarlife, then maybe talk to Bill Gates, my brother knows him." Tina was excited at the prospect of meeting Bill Gates. She had heard so much about him. She blurted out, "May I tag along, partner Chief sir?" He wanted to say no, but her dimples made him go with the subtle, "Sure."

"Hello, New Jersey State Police, how may I help you?"
"Uh, yes, I was just talking to a friend of mine there and her line went dead. Jen Kisstomuch, I have her address and I can't reach her parents or husband either. I know this sounds strange. I'm in Falls Church, Virginia, and she sounded like she was in trouble..."
"Hold on, let me get you to Homicide."
Lisa gasped. Homicide?! Why would they transfer her there?

Tell someone you love them and smile; maybe they will stay awhile.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -9-

Seven o'clock rolled around and David Addison approached Tina Reed's small, Ballard condo. Tina had little time to think about what clothes to wear. She just showered and threw on a flowery cotton dress. Her shoes would be the big effect, bright yellow with skinny high heels. Just as David knocked on her door, she wondered if she would taller than him. Her head was so flooded with blogs and multiple sclerosis, that it was hard to get excited about a date she had dreamed of since the day he nervously spilled his coffee in his lap. Many men had shown her attention, to the point of being boring, but his attention was uncontrollable--that made her feel more desirable than she ever had.

"Coming!" she shouted as she grabbed the traditional Seattle layer, be it shawl, jacket, sweater, or regulation detective London Fog sateen trench coat.

David was sweating through his undershirt and his heart was pumping against his white, button down collar shirt with a dark blue tie. He had tried on so many different combinations of his minimalistic clothing selection that almost all of his remaining shirts, ties, pants, shoes, and jackets were now strewn across his bedroom. He finally gave up. Either she would like him or not. He had two thoughts when she opened her door: 1. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and, 2. he had forgotten to comb his hair.

"Hi." was all he could muster. Tina countered with a heartfelt, "Hi." They stood for a moment, looking into each others eyes and then his phone rang. A second later hers rang. This would be the shortest date on record. Dr. Emrich was on David's phone and wise-ass Weeble was on Tina's.

Their MS blogger theory was hammered by a murder victim in Lexington, KY., who did not have MS and worse--there was a Canadian, living in Ontario who had been murdered using the same strange weapon. That victim, a female, was found by her son. She had been eating chocolate, oh, and she had MS. Weeble wanted to add that records showed she had been to Roswell, New Mexico.

Tina and David headed back to their office and ordered Chinese to be delivered. It was going to be a long night.

Obama Seattle Earthquake Registered on Richter Scale

Sorry I took a break, but with (NOW I'm officially whining) the heat, Obama's earthquake (oops TV reporters, just a sonic boom from dispatched fighter jets chasing a man from Mars who flew his small float plane into the presidential restricted area--DUH) visit, and a big council mtg tomorrow at my retirement community (I'm the new president, pray for me.), well, something had to give. Below is the next mystery installment.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -8-

Captain Herrad couldn't believe his eyes when he enter the rooms, all his detectives were actually working, not laughing or looking at porn, but seriously searching computer screens.

He stopped and stared for a few minutes, "Okay, what are you men up to?" Although two of his "men" were women, he didn't feel it necessary to worry about pronouns. He was from Diggman, Nebraska, where the only thing ever murdered was the English language by teenagers. He was very concerned about the recent Seattle murder of Jane Doe, no longer a Jane Doe since her husband put out a missing person report.



That first meeting with her husband set a few things straight. She definitely had had MS for many years, used a walker, lived in Tacoma, Washington, not far from Seattle--she drove and had planned to meet a friend in Seattle the afternoon of her death. The friend had left phone messages that she couldn't make it, but the victim never replied.



She also was a Seattle native, having grown up in an upscale neighborhood called, Queen Anne Hill. Captain Herrad was becoming agitated. His question was completely ignored. " CHIEF ADDISON!"



Det. Addison was engrossed in police and FBI reports from across the country, searching for any other blogger deaths. "Blogger," a word he had never heard before, but after reading a few blogs he was starting to get the idea. He realized that all the information in blogs and Face Book and the many other social networking venues was a real gold mine for his job, once he understood the secret codes. Det. Webster was smart enough to find and copy a manual of all the common secret abbreviations.

"Sorry, sir, we are all going over blogs. I think the murderer is connected to a blog," Addison dutifully replied. The Captain just shook his head and turned back to the group before leaving, "I just hope you know what you're doing. Another handicapped woman was reported missing today and she has MS. We need to cap this well before the shrimp get too oily."

Det. Reed raised her head at that ridiculous comment and caught Addison's eye. They stared for a moment and she smiled that smile that unraveled him. He quickly put his head down and continued reading, "Got Myelin." Tomorrow a well respected local neurologist, was sending an assistant to explain MS to the detectives, though they were picking up some much needed information from the blogs, especially one called, "Brass and Ivory."

Occasionally, one of the group would sigh and say, "Wow, this is a hell of an ugly disease." and "Wow, I never heard of this disease before." or " Montel Williams has MS. I love that guy."

Tina slipped closer to Addy, "Addy, we should get one of these bloggers in here too. You know, to talk about MS. Some of the bloggers don't hold their doctors in high regard. Just a thought." Her words were uttered in a whisper, close to his neck, sending shivers throughout his body. He jumped up from his chair.

"That's a good idea. See if you can arrange that," he said to Tina without looking at her.

Tina went back to her desk and googled Seattle MS Blogger. Many listings popped up and she chose one that had an email address on it. She arranged a meeting for the next day, right after the MS assistant was due. She went to the break room for a 7-Up, her stomach wasn't well after reading about sick people all day. She had a pins and needles feeling sometimes...might she have MS? Life trapped in a wheel chair, how horrible, she thought. Why hadn't they known about MS? "God, life is short," she said aloud, unknowingly. The phone on Det. Kmilyun's desk rang. It was not good news. Another murder, another MS blogger, now this was a serial murder case and the FBI would start breathing down the necks of police depts. across the U.S.

Sitting in his dark, den, with one light shining on his desk, Prof. Andy Emrich had a tear in his eye. In a low, but intense voice he muttered upon finding a new piece of the puzzle, "No, no, no, not this, not...this."

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -7-

Andy Emrich was a compute whiz, though he often appeared to have a brain full of Cheese Whiz. Detective Tina Reed was anxious to finally meet him, and her partner was leading the way to "Andy's Den," as the Seattle police dept. called it. Even the F.B.I. sometimes stopped by, just to chat, of course. Many jokes flew about Andy's age and Tina often wished she had been born late enough to understand the ins and outs of computers by 1st grade too.

What Tina had not considered was that the age jokes were over her head. Andy was 81 years old. He had been the lead in inventing the first internally programmable computer in 1957. It was even capable of scanning digital images. He was handsome, stood to greet a young woman, wearing his usual red suspenders and crisp black bow-tie. "You must be Detective Reed. May I call you Tina?"

While Tina was trying to take the twist in stride, she was able to utter, "Yes, of course."
Addison, cut to the chase. "Andy, can you connect anything? I feel there is a connection, but I'm stumped."

Dr. Emrich smiled warmly, "Well, that is what computers are for, change feelings into numbers and back into human desires for connections. I do have a few things for you. Let me show you."

Det. David Addison and Det. Tina Reed bent over Andy, staring at his computer. "See," he said, " in all these murders a few words repeat, head trauma, MS, and most importantly, I believe, blog. The victims and possibly the murderer or murders, were likely involved in some social blog group of people with MS. I would guess they all have computers. You should focus on what group they have in common, what Internet site or blog. Your murderer and possibly more victims will be found there. Yes, look for THE blog. Blogs are fascinating, very complex mental deviations of expressions. Their content can provoke intense emotions."

"Like that My Space, suicide." Tina chimed in.

Andy's face became serious, showing deep wrinkles in his forehead. "Precisely. People connect intimately with these computerized communications. This can be a very good thing or a deadly trap when one is divided between reality of flesh and blood, facial nuances, evolutionary signals of communication...and border algebra data and pixels. We really are not ready yet." Then, shaking his head he added, almost to himself, "not ready yet."

The two detectives left the den and headed into a beautiful Seattle day. Tourists were around, staring and pointing at the Space Needle, the seagulls. "Detective Reed, let's get back to the office and start reading blogs."

She laughed at his lumbering pronunciation of blogs. "Okay. And I think we should have a doctor speak to us about MS." She was completely oblivious to the stares from passing men, but Addison was not. It bothered him. He wanted to yell out, "What are you looking at!?" But, that might indicate he cared. Did he care? Ridiculous, he thought, she is too young for me, probably has a lover, the guys say she is gay, insane for him to have such feelings. Ugh. He had feelings? But why not just ask her on a date? One date. Yes, he would humiliate himself, the guys would brand him with jokes, she would say some pathetic "no, sorry I have to..." whatever. He was doing just fine on his own. He wouldn't think of it again.

"Addy, have you ever eaten at that restaurant? I hear the food is great."
"Uh, no, I, uh, eat at home."
"But look they are having a special tonight. Want to go?"
"Uh, sure, okay. I guess so."
"Let's meet at 7?"
He could feel his heart racing. "I'll pick you up. You still live in Ballard, right, 56th and 24th?"
She was struck. He remembered her address? He had only dropped her off that day her car died. What was she doing? He was her supervisor. The guys would never let her off the hook now. She had hoped so many times that he might ask her out. If he were interested, he would have by now. 'I guess so' he said, Jesus, a pity dinner. He thought she was too immature for him, too green. She was doing just fine on her own. What was she thinking!
"Uh, yes, yes, still there."
They walked in silence the rest of the way to the office.

As Addison swung the door open, he shouted, "Boys, let's start blogging!"
Weeble froze and turned to Lt. Geric, "Did he say what I thought he said?"
Geric patted Weeble on the back, "No."

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -6-

Trinity Newman Baptist Church in Lexington, Kentucky, was pew-full that Sunday. It was hot, almost 95' and very humid. Fans were moving to the beat of the gospel choir. Pastor Wyclef was almost done preaching. It was too hot for God's word. He was not a young man anymore and his son had much to say today, having just returned from a college group trip to Jamaica.

"Thank you brothers and sisters. The Lord has heard us today. Amen! Now my son, James has some words to share with you. James, come forward." The congregation looked around, some had not seen the young man in a year. College life took a lot out of the young man with big dreams. He had many plans to travel, see the world, and change the world, as many young men do. His father had once hoped James would follow in his heavy foot steps, become a missionary then pastor, then deacon --but his son's secret life would never allow that.

The church grew quiet as Pastor Wyclef stood on his tip toes, "James!" "James!"

The following Weds. James Wyclef would be found dead in a dumpster behind the Bar Complex, a well known gay club on Main St. in Lexington. Reports would show he died from a blunt blow to the head. His father turned his son's computer over to the police. "Please, respect my son's good name. He was God-fearing, a good boy," he begged the police detective, "Oh, Father, forgive his sins. Oh father..." then he fell to his knees gasping for air to keep his crying from drenching his blue silk tie; the tie James gave him a week ago.

"Sir, did he have any enemies...?"

"NO!" the shaken father forced out.

"What about his friends? Did you..."

"He was a student! He didn't have time for friends! He had, those, computer friends."

"Sir?" the detective took no joy in pressing the heart broken man, "Like Face Book, My Space?"

The pastor stayed seated on the floor, rocking. "Yes. And he had a blog, whatever that is. I saw him writing on it once. I hoped, I prayed he would out grow these machines."

Lexington was about to hit 95' again. The detectives walked back to their cars. "Joe, I guess we will have to interview all his Face Book friends. This job sure has changed since I started. Computer suspects, fake names, all over the world, Christ."

Joe rolled up his sleeves, "I'll start with his blog. They're like a diary. Besides, whoever did this was in Kentucky, not Kenya. To Hell with all the fake names. This is a real murder, right here. Probably a hate crime. Let's go get a beer."

"Hello?"

"Lisa?"

"Yes."

"It's Jen. I'm...I'm...in some trouble. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, my blog sister! What's wrong? You sound so serious."

"Lisa, I need to speak to you in person."

"Is it about the site?"

"I can't talk right now. Do you have the negative I"

"Jen? Hello? Jen? Jen?"

The line had died.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -5-

Addison wished Scarecrow would get it over with. Standing around decaying, prodded, dead murder victims was not his cup of coffee. Tina saw that Addison was ready to leave, that he was uncomfortable. She reached up to pat his shoulder.

"What!?" Detective Addison stumbled forward almost hitting the body.

Tina knew he didn't like to be touched, but it came instinctively for her, at least touching him did. She remembered the first day they met. He stood up and spilled his lid-free paper cup of coffee on his pants. His eyes swelled with tears, his face turned red, and he was in obvious pain. The rest of his team teased him all day and she had felt so guilty. He was still very clumsy around her and he still turned red too often when she was near. But on that first day, that meeting of the eyes, made her feel clumsy on the inside. Her usually cool interior melted, just as it was melting now.

"I 'm sorry to startle you, Detective Addison. It looks like we are almost done here," she said with that damn cute smile of hers, at least Addison was thinking about her smile. There it was again--they were gazing too long and for no good reason. The coronor cleared his thoat.

"You two got a minute? Okay, look at this impression on the skull. Something heavy struck this skull and see that?" he pointed to an area of skin that looked burnt. "Whatever struck her was hot. But, I have never seen such an impression. Should help that it is a distinctive pattern," he said as he covered the body.

"Detective Reed, let's get some photos to Andy, maybe he can work his magic." Addison was anxious to leave the close quarters he and Tina were ensconced in.

Tina felt giddy, "You mean I get to finally meet Andy, the Colorado computer genius? Great!"
She truly wanted to meet him, but 16 year olds speaking a foreign language from Geekdom that always came out fixing some problem was a thorn in her side. "At his age," "At Andy's age," she was sick of hearing that from the team. He probably earned twice what she did.

Meanwhile in a small, dark, except for one very bright exam light, Baltimore coroner's office--these words were being spoken: "That is the strangest impression I've ever seen. Very unique. I almost feel like I've seen something with those markings on it. Looks like it was a bit hot too, but no hair was burned. Very strange."

Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger -4-

Nottingham, Maryland is far away from Seattle, Washington, over 3,000 miles, but the Summer of 2010 would link them in a most unpleasant fashion. There are fewer than 40,000 people who reside in Nottingham. Baltimore is a skip away. One post office and a sleepy police station, both about to get a rude awakening.

It was dollar crabs night at Bill's Seafood and the place would be full. Norma Jean Teva never missed dollar crab night. The manager always enjoyed her company. He looked around but didn't see her in at her normal table. She not been feeling well, the last time he saw her. Of course he couldn't miss noticing two police officers strutting in.

"Hello, officers, can I find a table for you?" They were looking intensely at diners.
"We wonder if you ever saw this man in here?" A copied photo was shown to the Mgr.
"Why, yes, that is Norma Jean's husband, Archie. Archie Teva. Is something wrong?"
"I'm afraid so, " replied one of the officers, "do you have an office we can sit and ask you a few more questions? Mr. Teva has been murdered."

The second officer, skinny and needing to keep his hand on his side arm to convey the power he lacked physically, chimed in, "Strangled by his own cane, he was."
The first officer scowled at him, "Pete!"
"Strangled by a CANE? How..." the mgr. didn't get to finish his question before officer Skinny jumped in, proud of his inside info.
"It was one of them folding canes! I never saw one before. Has a hidden rope in the middle!"
"Pete! Can you possibly shut up? This is an investigation. We don't know that's what killed him."

By now the diners had overheard enough to get the jitters. They began whispering that they should get safely home if there was a murderer on the loose. The first thing Mgr. Biib blurted out as they were walking to the back office was, "His wife, Norma Jean, said he had multiple scero...o..sick. MS, I think. Not sure what that is, like Jerry's Kids, you know? That marathon coming up? Poor bastard has two sweet kids. You just never know. And now this. What kind of monster would kill a handicapped guy? His wife used to talk about his bog he was working on, kept him busy. I should have offered to help him. Hard job, cleaning out a bog. Dave! Bring us some crab back here."

The autopsy in Seattle showed that the Jane Doe had MS, multiple sclerosis. "Probably for decades," Scarecrow had said. "By the area affected, I'm surprised she could walk without a wheel chair, maybe a walker."

"Addy, did they find a wheel chair?" Tina asked. "No, but I need to take a look around, " Addison scratched his thick, wavy hair covered head, "and find out more about MS."

"OH, and something I think you need to know," Scarecrow said, "may be it's nothing but get your pad out."

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger--3

Can silence thunder with its presence? That seemed to be the case in the old building. There must have been creaking wood floor slots, and pipes grumbling like an eighty year old on Peptol Bismal withdrawal, yet, on this early morning before the sun had decided to join the party, only the light bulb in Officer Addison's, "Addy," as he had been called since his high school quaterback days, small desk lamp made any audible noise. Maybe it was his concentration on the report in his hands: "Caucasian female approx age 56 gray long hair, broken eye glasses near head, fully clothed, no sexual assault, head trauma before fall due to heavy object of unknown origin, impression on head-to coronor for autopsy, no ID, no missing persons report match, time of death approx 5PM Thursday, body found in alley behind dumpster by garbage collector. No broken bones on visual, little blood, no witnesses. 5'5" average weight for age, unusual skin indentions Personal note, she looked well norished and had possible wedding ring indention, nails were cut edgy, no make up, clothes not pretentious or overly sexy. Detective Weeble"

Detective Addison repeated the last words with disdain and a sigh, "DeTECtive Weeble. What a moron." Then he jumped out of his seat.

"Who is a moron, Addy?" It was his partner, Tina Reed, "walks softly and carries a big gun," the guys would tease her. And they loved to tease her, not out of malice or jealousy, but to see her smile or give them her, "You-are-such-a- boy" look that helped them fall asleep some cold and damp Seattle nights. She was blonde and beautiful and they were sure she was a lesbian, but they would take a bullet for her any day. It had taken Addison little time to get used to having her around, certainly nicer than the obese agent Dunkin who wore as many donut crumbs as he ate. Reed was smart, a graduate of the University of Michigan in Forensics. So smart that sometimes Addison felt beneath her. He had worked his way up from high school championship quarterback to police foot patrol to dectective and his only degree was from the streets of Seattle, nothing like her years in Detroit.

She was massaging his tight shoulders, humped over from reading reports. He usually was awake by 3AM, coffee at a cart along the walk from his tiny Belltown studio in downtown Seattle to the police station, and at his desk by 4AM. Maybe at 36 he should be doing more with his life, but he always wanted to be a cop, help people, for David Addison it didn't get better than this.
"Oh, Weeble, his notes, always so stupid. How did he make detective?"
Reed shoved back from his shoulders and hopped on his desk. "Well, he is really just an agent."

They looked at each other and laughed. God, her blue eyes were beautiful, he thought. He gazed too long into them. He always did. They both gazed too long, maybe looking for something...

"Happy Gloom Day, fellow dicks!" It was Weeble. "How much do we love dark, wet, fishy Seattle mornings?! Let's go find some dead bodies! Weeee!"

Addison stood and grabbed his tan suit coat, "Detective Reed and I are heading out. I want to look at the alley where Jane Doe was found on Thursday. Then we're seeing Scarecrow. I want that autopsy." Tina started for the door.

Weeble threw his breakfast wrap on his cluttered desk, "What's the rush? Just another robbery gone wrong. She had no purse on her, no money, I'd shove it to Robbery."

Addison and Reed were half out the door when Addison said briskly, "Well, I'm not you."

Tina thought her partner was walking pretty fast, "Hey, something special about this I need to know?"

"Just a feeling I have. I want to know what the murder weapon was. It was 5PM, rush hour, had to be a lot of people around. somebody saw something and I remember reading about another case in Falls Church, Virginia, just a couple weeks ago...just humor me, okay?"

He seemed very serious, more serious than she had seen him in awhile. "Absolutely. But, I don't need to humor you, Addy, I'm your partner. If its important to you it's important to me."

The coroner was just a long block away, "Scarecrow" she was called, and one of the best in the business. Addison and Reed would soon find out that there was indeed something unique about this murder.

The Mystery of of the Blotted Out Blogger -2-

"Lis, look at this," he said handing a coffee splattered newspaper to his girlfriend.
Reading over his shoulder as he held it, she twisted her head.
"What am I supposed to be looking at? About the dead body that little girl found?"
He took a quick sip of coffee and said, "I'll read it. New drug for multiple sclerosis to get FDA approval."
Lisa, pulled out a chair and sat at the table. She was in obvious pain as she rubbed her neck.
"Just leave it on the table. I'll read it later. I think I just pulled a muscle."
An unforgiving cat was rubbing around her leg, sending shocks of small pain pricks up her to her knees. "And would you mind feeding the cats. I'm not feeling right this morning. Some thing's not right."

He had heard that before, but this seemed more serious. The unspoken wavelength reaching out between longtime lovers.

It would be several days later, while indulging in the new past time of skimming obituaries for 'death by multiple sclerosis' that the story of the dead woman would again catch her eye.

There was the woman, she had "...suffered from multiple sclerosis...enjoyed blogging..." a name she had never heard. How strange that she had never heard of her, she thought, but then quickly replaced that thought with, "How arrogant of me, to think every blogger with MS would know me, and I them."

Lisa had a blog too, and wrote for a site about MS, with a respectable amount of readers and had received much praise from other bloggers and the medical community. "Rob, could you grab the scissors for me? I want to cut this obit out. That dead woman the little girl found was a MS blogger!"

If Lisa had known what snowball of events that clipping would begin, she would have used the scissors for a much different purpose.

The Mystery of the Blotted Out Blogger

She moved slowly into the splintered light that pushed through every crumbling wood remnant of what was once a grand building. Dust flutter in all directions like soft, minature butterflies. She felt brave but also scared, it seemed so vast and empty; so full of life, yet so deserted.

The floor was honored to be called a floor, in its condition of cobbled clods of thick dirt advancing upward to form a fossilized braille carpet. She stepped delicately to avoid waking any living or dead creature. It was so quiet and peaceful. Dust was lighting on her long blonde hair, so soft was the breeze that it held tight to her. She began dancing, swirling with arms as if she were a flying bird. Her eyes closed and she imagined this was what love was like, maybe one day she would return and be married here...the music...music...music? Her eye lids sprang open and she swung around so fast that she almost fell. Where was that music coming from?

The best retreat was to run out of the old, decaying building, run back down the dew covered grass hill she had been moseying about on before she spied the old barn. A groan from the far corner of the building would cause a change of plan. There was a person there, on the ground, groan to moan to, "Help me," spoken so low that had a bird chirped it would not have heard. She backed up, tripped, and ran straight away, never to look back--not on that day.