The passenger window came down. “Can I give you a lift?” said a female voice. I looked in. It was my favorite FBI agent.“Agent Ferraro, what bri...gs you downtown?”She leaned across and opened the passenger door. “I heard that you had a little trouble.”“Yeah, well you should see the other guy,” I said bending down to see in the taxi.“Where have I heard that line before?” She paused just for a second. “Get in.” I did and closed the car door as we rolled away from the curb. “So how are you feeling. Maybe next time you can come to me.”“Who knows,” I replied.After dinner we drove back to Harold’s Shack. “I have spent more to renovate the shack than Grandpa Harold paid for the whole farm. I am pretty sure that fair market value for the shack is way less than the renovations cost. It was an act of love, and I still am not finished,” I explained.“So what’s next?” she asked.“Once upon a time I needed to live in a shack, so we didn’t replace the exterior siding. Now that I’m respectable, I plan. More

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