He stepped out of the sedan and looked around. Next to the ice cream shop was a small general store with a sign out front in ornate type that could have come straight out of Victorian times: PURN DAVIES: YOU WANT IT-i SELL IT.

On the other side of the ice cream shop was a small clothing store that looked elegant and expensive, with that peculiar Carmel-like look that the rest of the buildings had. It was called Intimate Deceptions-a name that for James conjured up images of black lace against a white sheet or white skin.

The sidewalks looked brand-new and the road was nicely blacktopped. No ruts anywhere to hold rain puddles.

All the parking spots were marked with thick white lines. Not a faded line in the bunch. He'd seen newer houses on the drive in, apparently all built very recently. In town there was a hardware store, a small Safeway barely large enough to support the sign, a dry cleaners, a one-hour-photo place, a McDonald's with a very discreet golden arch.

A prosperous, quaint little town that was perfect. He slipped his keys into his jacket pocket. First thing he needed was a place to stay. He spotted a sign reading THELMA'S BED AND BREAKFAST right Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

across the street. Nothing fancy about that sign or title. He pulled his black travel bag out of the back seat and walked over to Thel-ma's big white Victorian gingerbread house with its deep porch that encircled the entire house. He hoped he could get a room up in one of those circular towers.