Discretion beIng the better part of valour

Suddenly it was Monday, and another workaday week had begun for them although workaday held a different significance for these two than for most folk. An episode of Hercule Poirot on a DVD free with the Sunday paper was the single discriminating feature of their weekend. Abby prepared the house for the guest incoming while Gilbert knuckled down to writing - as he had promised he would. But first he took some precautions to save some of his thoughts and all of his communications from prying eyes. He would not take chances again. He set up a new email address (gilberts@id-ds.com) and a new site (Just Another ShoeBox) where he could store and share, with a select, trusted few, both emails pertaining to the mystery and his soon to be started notebook wherein he would attempt to unravel more of the mystery. And all the while he felt the presence of an unknown surveillant. Now and then the hairs on the back of his neck, his hackles, rose and fell. Once, a shudder ran the length of his spine. He had convinced himself that somebody - or perhaps Nobodaddy - was watching, listening: nay, earwicking him. An image kept popping into his head that he could not focus. It haunted him as he assembled the bits and pieces of these new, "safe" locations that he had set up. It faded in and out as he set up the categories on his new location. The next week would prove troublesome vis a vis the demystification: guests, though welcome and enjoyable, had this habit of interfering with detailed introspection.

As he finished up for the day the image that had haunted him came into clear perspective:






(to be continued ... )