”“Nah, you can write fiction about anything. We all have our own outré tastes. I like bizarre pastoral poetry from centuries ago. Why not that?�...� She paused and added, “But so old. Freeman? Rhode? Connington?”“Historical overview of the subject.” She laughed and I smiled, “They’re what I like when it’s just a crime and its solution I want, as clever as it gets and never mind character development.”She laughed and said, “I’ve seen your other books, so you’re allowed those as well.”I chuckled as. I even showed them the books I had used for the random city encounters.One guy who was around 40 came up wearing slacks and a polo shirt (Lacoste, not the Le Tigre’ ripoffs). He shook my hand then offered me his business card. He said that he caught most of the game, and said if I could flesh it out a bit more he might be interested in buying it to publish as a module. I showed him the books I had recently gotten, and he said “Good books, but it’s just a copy really. If you go to the sales room. " He smiled."Okay," I said to him. "Thanks. The kid gets the fifth and sixth; you've got the seventh and eighth. Get out to the pen and loosen up soon as you can."Between innings they hurried away while I used a couple of pinch hitters. We manufactured a run with a walk, a good bunt from Frank Smith that he almost beat out and Skeeter's choked down and humpbacked hit to right that made Magruder let lose a rebel yell of sorts. It was the ugliest hit of the year, more like a badminton serve than. “Perhaps you could help me home with these bags, they get heavier all the time.” Nervously I looked at my watch, it was only just after eight thirty so I had over an hour to waste before going to Jo-Anne’s house.“Sure!”I said taking her two bags and following her through her gate which was number ninety-five and nowhere near Jo-Anne’s. As I entered inside the front door Mary told me to bring the bags through to the kitchen and taking off her coat said,“You will have a tea or coffee with me,.