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to move in a hurry but not draw attention to myself. So I quickly but casually turned and started walking to the house when my foot slid on a wet paper I had dropped and I went down on all fours.  My first thought was that these shoes were going out into the trash. My second thought was to start parking in the garage instead of in front of it. My third thought was some lie to tell the police officer if he stopped.  After all, there's nothing suspicious about a woman in a bloody white uniform kneeling in the driveway.
         "I just killed and quartered my husband, officer, and I need to get him out for trash day."
         That wouldn't work. How about the truth – or some portion of it?
         Sure enough, he stopped.
         "Can I help you ma'am?"
         "I'm fine, officer. Thank you very much."
         Then I saw the flashlight go on and aimed directly at my bloodstained ass.
         "Are you sure? Are you hurt?" he said as he got out of the car. "Do you live here, ma'am?"
         Longport police are wonderful. They'd be polite to a lady even as they emptied their clip into her.
         "Maybe I can help."
         I figured I had no choice. No hiding it. I stood up, but before turning around, I opened the top two buttons on my uniform. Nothing helps more than a little cleavage.
         "Jesus, ma'am. What happened to you? Are you okay?"
         "Thank you for your concern officer, but I'm okay.  I work at the hospital lab, and we had an accident, that's all."  Why else would I be wearing a blood soaked uniform?
         Officer Walker, according to his badge, looked down at the bloody papers in the drive and on my front seat. Then he looked at the open garage door to an otherwise very dark house. And then I think he looked at my cleavage, although it was hard to tell.
         He looked lean and muscular, in his mid-thirties, I would guess, with wavy dark hair sticking out under his hat. A little young for me, well maybe not, but a fine specimen of a man, everything the opposite of Reynolds. He was the kind of guy you'd sneak glances at in a restaurant, especially in uniform. He looked serious, but I could tell he had a kind face and a smile that would dazzle the pants off of many a young thing.
         "Sure you're not hurt? Anything that the Somers Point police should be aware of? Would you have any identification on you?"
         "It really isn't necessary officer, is it?"  Time to stick out the chest a little more. That's when I heard a door open on the other side of the police car and I saw his woman partner come around. She was rather short, a little chunky, and looked like a fireplug in her uniform. I knew right away that nothing funny could be going on in the back seat of that squad car between partners.
         "I'd just like to check, that's all. Anyway, an attractive woman like you shouldn't be out by herself, even in Longport."
         Is this guy flirting with me, or just distracting me until his partner knocks me to the ground and cuffs me?
         "I don't remember seeing you around the neighborhood. I live just up the street," he added.
         Longport is a very small community and the police patrol regularly. They know all of the full timers, by their face and by their cars.
         "I just moved in here a few weeks ago. Rented it from the Voci family. Oh, my license is in the car, I'll get it."
         As I started to move, his partner started to come toward me. Evidently the cleavage wasn't working with her, but Walker gave a look and she walked around the outside of the house instead. I think knowing the Voci's name helped.
         "Here it is, officer."
         "Brooke Castle," he read. "Pennsylvania license and gives a Philadelphia address."
         "I plan to change my license and registration as soon as I can."
         "That's a good idea.  Nice picture of you, by the way."
         I knew he was lying, of course. Nobody looks good on a