get no P.I.E. from Dog the Bounty Hunter tonight after all, huh?”
Justin laughed, his taunt pointed more at my employer’s fondness for silly acronyms that represent…well, corporate silliness. P.I.E. stands for ‘Performance, Image, Exposure’, and is what Senior Leadership uses to evaluate an employee’s promote-ability. Yep, there’s another word from corporate America that isn’t really a word, and it’s used to support a subjective concept to evaluate talent. Not to mention talking about how good or bad ‘pie’ is can get a dude in a lot of trouble when referring to the females I work with.
After a dexterous handshake with Justin, I took my place next to my wife, sharing a warm kiss scented by the Zinfandel she sipped on. I nodded to the rest of the gang with Angie and Jackie across from me and Tony and Tom huddled at the table’s other end, apparently looking over the photos from last night’s investigation.
“I’ve decided to try the smothered chop steak that Fi likes so much,” Justin announced, nodding toward Fiona.
“Good choice!” she beamed. “We’ve already ordered, and I think you said you wanted the usual, too, when you called me from the highway.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Just as big a fan of the Chophouse specialty my wife prefers, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me right. Garbled conversation for the most part, despite my Bluetooth connection on the bike, made me think I’d have to reorder once I arrived. That saves some valuable time …we should get out to the Carnton Plantation just before it starts to get dark.
“So, Tom…Fiona told me earlier that you guys captured some pretty cool stuff last night.”
He looked up at me and then motioned for Tony to be silent. I guess he’s still smarting from last night’s upstage.
“Maybe,” he said. “Another dryer-hose image showed up in a photograph taken near the back door at Johnny and Brenda’s place.”
“What about the image of the face in the kitchen window?” asked Jackie, her tone a little indignant. “Fiona showed us the facial features, like a prominent nose and strong brow, remember?”
I assumed they must be talking about Johnny’s spirit possibly hanging around the murder scene. Hell, it’s still his and Brenda’s house, until their next-of-kin figures out what to do with the place. That is, once the police finally remove the yellow tape from the home’s entrances. The ‘dryer-hose’ reference of Tom’s is investigator lingo for spirit evidence in light forms, strongly resembling the hose on the back of a standard clothes dryer. Just goes to show how non-scientific our field is. It’s not like someone can go to college and get a degree in paranormal investigation techniques. At least not yet.
“It might not be anything we can prove,” offered Tony, when Tom merely shrugged his shoulders and went back to view the pictures under a magnifier he brought with him. “Remember the faces we’ve seen before that turned out to be just weird light reflections?”
“Yes,” she sighed, looking over at Angie, before the two women looked over at Fiona.
“He’s right,” Fiona conceded. “But, why not let Jimmy take a look at the pictures anyway? Who knows…he might see something else we’ve missed.”
True. It’s sort of my forte. Other than Fiona’s keen eye, I’ve found more faint anomalies than anyone else in the group.
Tom handed the pack to Tony and he gave it to Angie, who passed it on to Fiona. Why Angie didn’t just give it directly to me…well whatever. Fiona handed the pictures to me, and asked Tom to lend me his magnifier. Just then our food arrived.
While everyone was being served their dinner entrees, I scanned through the pictures. I readily believed the dryer-hose shots were legitimate evidence of something paranormal. Especially one photograph, where the image bore reddish and yellow hues along its edges. It was solid in its consistency too. That’s something we look for.
As for the
Justin laughed, his taunt pointed more at my employer’s fondness for silly acronyms that represent…well, corporate silliness. P.I.E. stands for ‘Performance, Image, Exposure’, and is what Senior Leadership uses to evaluate an employee’s promote-ability. Yep, there’s another word from corporate America that isn’t really a word, and it’s used to support a subjective concept to evaluate talent. Not to mention talking about how good or bad ‘pie’ is can get a dude in a lot of trouble when referring to the females I work with.
After a dexterous handshake with Justin, I took my place next to my wife, sharing a warm kiss scented by the Zinfandel she sipped on. I nodded to the rest of the gang with Angie and Jackie across from me and Tony and Tom huddled at the table’s other end, apparently looking over the photos from last night’s investigation.
“I’ve decided to try the smothered chop steak that Fi likes so much,” Justin announced, nodding toward Fiona.
“Good choice!” she beamed. “We’ve already ordered, and I think you said you wanted the usual, too, when you called me from the highway.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Just as big a fan of the Chophouse specialty my wife prefers, I wasn’t sure she’d heard me right. Garbled conversation for the most part, despite my Bluetooth connection on the bike, made me think I’d have to reorder once I arrived. That saves some valuable time …we should get out to the Carnton Plantation just before it starts to get dark.
“So, Tom…Fiona told me earlier that you guys captured some pretty cool stuff last night.”
He looked up at me and then motioned for Tony to be silent. I guess he’s still smarting from last night’s upstage.
“Maybe,” he said. “Another dryer-hose image showed up in a photograph taken near the back door at Johnny and Brenda’s place.”
“What about the image of the face in the kitchen window?” asked Jackie, her tone a little indignant. “Fiona showed us the facial features, like a prominent nose and strong brow, remember?”
I assumed they must be talking about Johnny’s spirit possibly hanging around the murder scene. Hell, it’s still his and Brenda’s house, until their next-of-kin figures out what to do with the place. That is, once the police finally remove the yellow tape from the home’s entrances. The ‘dryer-hose’ reference of Tom’s is investigator lingo for spirit evidence in light forms, strongly resembling the hose on the back of a standard clothes dryer. Just goes to show how non-scientific our field is. It’s not like someone can go to college and get a degree in paranormal investigation techniques. At least not yet.
“It might not be anything we can prove,” offered Tony, when Tom merely shrugged his shoulders and went back to view the pictures under a magnifier he brought with him. “Remember the faces we’ve seen before that turned out to be just weird light reflections?”
“Yes,” she sighed, looking over at Angie, before the two women looked over at Fiona.
“He’s right,” Fiona conceded. “But, why not let Jimmy take a look at the pictures anyway? Who knows…he might see something else we’ve missed.”
True. It’s sort of my forte. Other than Fiona’s keen eye, I’ve found more faint anomalies than anyone else in the group.
Tom handed the pack to Tony and he gave it to Angie, who passed it on to Fiona. Why Angie didn’t just give it directly to me…well whatever. Fiona handed the pictures to me, and asked Tom to lend me his magnifier. Just then our food arrived.
While everyone was being served their dinner entrees, I scanned through the pictures. I readily believed the dryer-hose shots were legitimate evidence of something paranormal. Especially one photograph, where the image bore reddish and yellow hues along its edges. It was solid in its consistency too. That’s something we look for.
As for the
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