Page 310 - NIXBOOK

I knew police officers who received awards and recognition from vice presidents, and I knew a cop who joined the secret service
and was part of the executive protection detail for the President #43. The best I ever did was meet a couple of WA state governors.

I was checking on an old abandoned house in an overgrown field; the house had been vacant for 10 or 15 years and was attracting
the occasional bored teenagers with spray paint. Poking around in the basement, I made a rare find: The shelves had been lined
with newspapers, by the original occupants, a few decades earlier. The shelves were empty but the newspapers remained. They
had been locally published, but printed in the Norwegian language, for the benefit of all the local transplants who had come
from Norway back in the day and preferred their native language over American. How cool is that.

Me, in a dead woman’s house. She had died of natural causes so it was not a crime scene or anything; just a typical investigation
and then the coroner showed up to remove the body. While we were in there, we saw on a bookshelf some certificates, photos,
and momentos from her career that she had retired from, as some kind of an analyst with the Central Intelligence Agency.