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Death Comes Silently
Carolyn Hart - Author
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National Bestselling Author and winner of multiple Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity Awards, Carolyn Hart continues to dazzle mystery fans with an all new Dead on Demand Mystery.
Winter has arrived in Broward's Rock, South Carolina, and business has slowed for Annie Darling, owner of mystery bookstore Death on Demand. So when the island's resident writer publishes the latest in her popular mystery series, Annie jumps at the chance to host a book signing, even though it conflicts with her shift at the local charity shop, Better Tomorrow.
Luckily, fellow volunteer Gretchen Burkholt agrees to sub for her. The signing goes well, but Gretchen interrupts the event multiple times, leaving voice mails about scandalous news she's dying to share. Even though Gretchen tends to be excitable, Annie heads over to Better Tomorrow, where she finds Gretchen dead on the floor, an axe by her side.
Annie enlists the help of her husband, Max, to piece together a puzzle involving an overturned kayak, a stolen motorboat, a troubled love affair, and a reckless teenager. And she must tread carefully in her investigation, because a killer is on the loose, and that killer works well in the foggy days of winter...
Chapter 1
Nicole Hathaway drew the covers over her head to block out the pale winter moonlight. Alone. She felt so alone. How had her life gone so wrong? She stifled a sob. Always, she'd wanted to find the right man. She'd been thrilled when Everett pursued her. He was such a gentleman. Not rough or crude like so many boys she knew. He was older, distinguished. He'd treated her with such courtesy. His manners and cultivated background dazzled her. She'd taken great pride in being Mrs. Everett Hathaway. She wasn't sure when she began to see him for what he was, fussy and pretentious and sometimes not very nice.
She hadn't expected what happened, a man who occupied her every waking thought, a man who brought her ecstasy. By that time, she'd moved to a bedroom of her own, at first with the plea that she had such a cough from her allergies and she would sleep better alone, and then the days continued to pass and they slept apart.
She didn't want to go on this way. Why live a lie? But when she spoke of being together, there were reasons and excuses, and soon her lover didn't meet her as often.
There had to be a way to make it happen . . .
But Everett Hathaway had shrugged and said, "Sorry, old man." Everett had affected a slightly British accent and pseudo upper class attitude ever since he dabbled in art history at a provincial university more than twenty years ago. "Business is business."
Though Leslie's smile never wavered, she dissected him as only the young and arrogant can . . . Reddish hair and eyes like green slime . . . Thinks he's gorgeous in that dorky checked sweater . . . Reminds me of that stupid goat at the stables . . . big, round, dumb eyes . . . All he does is read stupid poetry . . . Looks silly behind Uncle Eddie's desk, like a kid playing grown–up . . . Wonder if he knows about Nicole . . . That would distract him from her, that was for sure . . . Usually she could get in and out of the agency without dealing with him . . . If she had to listen to him very often, she'd rather be at school, boring as it was . . .
Everett Hathaway cleared his throat, appeared uncomfortable. "I'm deeply disappointed in your behavior, Leslie."
She tried to look bored. But there was something in his voice . . . She clutched her neck in faux distress. "Has that pointy– headed math teacher complained? Honestly"—she heaved an aggrieved sigh— "I don't see any point in algebra."
"This isn't about school, although there is a good deal we might discuss there. Your grades are deplorable. Perhaps your lack of attention to your duties is part of a larger picture." He folded his arms. "I am aware that you did not stay with a friend last Friday night. Instead, you were in Savannah with one Steve Raymond." He spoke the name with distaste.
Leslie made an effort to appear distressed. "Steve and I were just having an adventure." Uncle was such an old sap, maybe he'd believe her. She'd been fooling him for years. "Some of the kids dared me to spend the night with a guy in Savannah." She tried to sound casual, amused, like the old movies where they stood around drinking martinis and smoking and talking smart. "We stayed at a Holiday Inn, but we were kind of like on a scavenger hunt and we went around town getting trinkets to prove we'd stayed and we had the ferry tickets, too, with the time we came back the next morning." She clapped her hands together. "I won the bet and now a bunch of them have to take turns doing whatever I say." She tilted her head. "I'm going to make Margo walk down Main Street in a bikini." For an instant, she wished her fabrication were real. It would be delicious to make tall, skinny, elegant Margo shiver. She was pleased with her invention.
Everett's grim face remained hard. "You spent the night with him in a motel. One of your teachers saw you and called me. You're under age. I understand he's nineteen. If I call the police, he'll go to jail."
Leslie stiffened. "It was a joke. Come on. And I'm almost eighteen." He was a dried–up old stick. No wonder Nicole cheated on him. What was it Mr. Wingate said in English the other day about somebody in a novel? That he was a dunce. She liked that word. That's what Uncle was. A dunce. She wished she could tell him.
Everett glanced at a legal pad on his desk. "Where did you
meet him?"
She gave a casual wave of her hand. "On the beach last summer. A bunch of kids hang out together. It's real laid back."
"Where does he live?"
Her shrug was elaborate. "I don't know. We were over at Bunny's"—she was pleased with her casual tone; she could almost believe her own lies—"and the idea came up and he was the one who said, sure, he'd play along, why not? He's a real joker." And so good in bed. "But I can't tell you all that much about him." She had a quick memory of the shabby cabin where Steve lived and the fun they had with his dad usually out of town.
Everett's tone was frosty. "The teacher knew a bit about him. She said he dropped out of school a couple of years ago. His mother ran off with a drummer in Savannah. His father's rarely home, always on the road." His derisive tone dismissed Steve and his family as undesirables.
Leslie felt a rush of panic. If he kept nosing around, he'd find out about much more than a single night on the mainland. She managed a tinkling laugh. "It was just a joke. I promise I won't do it again." Since there had been no joke, that wouldn't be a hard promise to keep.
"You are forbidden to see Steve Raymond again. And"—he looked at her with that slimy gaze—"unless you agree, I'll cut your allowance."
Leslie played a mean hand of poker. She knew when to fold them. Again she gave a shrug. "No problem. This was no big deal. A joke. Steve played along. And don't even think about going to the cops." There was an edge to her voice. "That would be sooo humiliating. I couldn't show my face at school. So let it go and Steve will be history."
As she walked out of his office, she was thinking fast. Would he keep checking? He might. If he did, he might keep his threat to cut her allowance. He didn't live in the real world and he had no idea she had more money than anyone she knew. She had her future planned. As soon as she got out of boring, awful high school, she would rent an apartment in Savannah, maybe take enough classes to keep her uncle agreeable. But she wouldn't be able to do anything without money. Why had their grandfather left a will where she couldn't get her hands on her inheritance until she was twenty– five? Until then, her uncle controlled the checkbook.
Blood rushed to his head. He pushed up from his desk, strode across the room. Trey was a thin version of his late father, sandy haired, brown eyed, always moving like a man in a hurry. His late father's firm resolve was evident in the tough set of his face. Now was the time for a showdown. His uncle shut him out of everything, made stupid decisions, missed deadlines, and royally screwed up old accounts and new. Trey was eager to take over. He loved planning campaigns. He'd do whatever he needed to do to make the agency tops again, sought out by big companies all over the South. He'd had a great idea for tourist promotion for the Broward's Rock Chamber of Commerce:
Broward's Rock
Jewel of the Sea
Surf, Sand, Sun
Fun for Everyone
Cross the Sound for Island Delight
Dance Away the Night
Lovers' Rendezvous
He'd make the letters big, bright, shiny, maybe emerald green, surround them with a montage of holiday shots, golfing, kayaking, surfing, sunset beach strolls, the island's ferry since Broward's Rock was a good forty minutes from the mainland.
As per usual, all outgoing material passed over Everett's desk. Everett had called him in, advised Trey in his pompous manner that he was glad Trey had some ideas but this sort of thing was better handled by a more mature approach, and the project was shelved.
Trey reached the door, one lean hand on the knob, when he remembered. Everett usually left early on Fridays. He played backgammon at the club in the winter, golfed in good weather.
Trey's thin face hardened. When Everett was in the office, he lounged in his late brother's oversized red leather chair and played with his iPad. A few more months of "work" by Everett would spell an ignominious end for Hathaway Advertising, its reputation shot. It shouldn't be this way. Dad had built a great agency. After his mother's death so long ago, Dad had focused on the agency. Sometimes Trey thought the agency gave his dad something to love after their mom died. He'd worked furiously. When he'd died, Trey wanted more than anything to keep the agency going, keep his dad's dream alive. His cousin, Leslie, thought he was a sap to work. The only reason she came to the office was to get out early from school, claiming an internship at the family business. She did her nails and surfed the Net. Why work when you were rich? Not that either he or Leslie controlled their inheritances yet. Everett was their guardian until they were twenty– five. He paid their bills and provided a monthly stipend. That was infuriating, too. Worst of all had been Everett taking over the house. Until his dad's death, Everett had lived on the mainland. The house ultimately would belong to Trey. Now he had to share it with Everett and his wife and his cousin. There was plenty of room, but the house should have been his. Instead, he had to live like he was a teenager in somebody else's home.
Was Everett taking revenge on his older, handsomer, successful brother, destroying the business Edward Marlow Hathaway II built by sweat and effort? It wasn't about money. There was plenty of money from the estate of Edward M. Hathaway, his grandfather, for Everett and the grandchildren to live on. They didn't need income from the agency, but it wasn't a matter of money for Trey. His dad had been a man with charm and brains and energy. Hathaway Advertising had been the joy of his too– short life.
Trey turned away from the door, jammed his hands in his trouser pockets, walked to the window that overlooked the harbor, and stared moodily out at white– flecked swells. He had to do something. Time was running out for Dad's dream and for his. He couldn't even start a new agency until he had control of his inheritance at twenty– five.
Everett blocked him any way he tried to turn.
Hyla knew the island well. This cove abutted a picnic area, deserted on this raw New Year's Day. The boat might have rested here for weeks except for a hardy bird– watcher surveying the area with binoculars because a friend had spotted a rare snowy owl the previous day. The boat had been taken sometime after dark yesterday, according to the owner.
She studied the interior of the boat that was visible from the bank. There appeared to be no damage. She reached into a pocket for a slim digital camera. She worked slowly, always patient, always thorough, taking photographs that made clear the boat's location, then moving nearer for a series of shots. When done, the camera in a zipped pocket of her jacket, she pulled plastic gloves from another pocket, slipped them on, and picked up a black vinyl fingerprint kit.
She reached across a couple of feet of marsh water to the transom and stiff – armed to vault lightly into the boat, the kit in her free hand. She walked slowly forward, eyes scanning the cushions. All were in place. At the front, the key was in the ignition. The owner had been defensive. "Sure the key was in the boat. We've never had a problem. We never worried about the boat." Officer Harrison's smile was sardonic. Broward's Rock wasn't immune to crime.
She placed the kit in the captain's seat, lifted the lid, retrieved powder, and dusted the steering wheel. When the coat had been applied, she stared down in surprise. No fingerprints. None. Not a single whorl or line. Last night the driver might likely have worn gloves as well as a thick jacket to ward off the cold. Even so, there should have been traces of smudged prints. Instead, the grey plastic wheel was clean and shiny. Obviously the wheel had been carefully polished. No gloves? Or simply great care?
The latter seemed out of character for a joy ride.
Joy ride . . .
The police officer's thin, freckled face squeezed in a frown. Kids did nutty things for sure, but a late– night jaunt on a low– forties December night, even colder out on the water with the wind, made no sense. On a hot July night, "borrowed" boats, skinny– dipping, smoking pot behind a sand dune came as no surprise.
Again her probing gaze moved slowly over the boat. No bottles. No trash. If kids took the boat, there should have been some trace. She felt a prickle up her back. Something was off – kilter here. She studied the railing, moved nearer the transom. A scratch on the near gunwale marked the fiberglass. She bent closer, saw a greenish streak. Possibly something metal had struck the fiberglass, left particles of paint. She again used the camera. She almost turned to leave, then stopped. That green streak bothered her. It wouldn't do any harm to get a sample. She picked up the evidence kit. She carefully lifted green paint particles to a transparent rubber– backed gelatin layer. As she removed the layer, she saw a tuft of material adhering to the railing. She methodically finished her task, then used a magnifying glass to look more closely. Her eyes narrowed. The scrap might be black cotton or wool snagged by a cracked spot in the plastic. She visualized a dark figure, moving fast, possibly swinging out of the boat to jump to shore, a gloved hand gripping the rail. Had a jacketed arm grazed the railing and a scrap torn free? She hesitated, then once again used the kit, bagged the scrap, applied a label. Whoever took the boat had tried not to leave a single trace, but that was hard to do in a physical world. Sometimes a tiny scrap would be enough to electrocute a man. Anyway, she'd turn in a complete report. Lou Pirelli would ask when was she going to stop trying to be a super cop, then grin and toss her a jelly donut, like a treat to a retriever. Sure, this wasn't a big– deal heist, no harm done, but she liked to be meticulous. If there was evidence, she would gather every scrap. Never taking anything for granted was her way of keeping a structured world even though she well knew life could turn dangerous in a heartbeat. She swallowed, pushed away a memory that would never leave her, the night she called in from patrol in Miami, officer down, as her partner died from gunshots to his chest.
She closed the evidence kit and focused on the slight rock of the
boat and the chill breeze, anything to fill her mind.
An old Chevy rattled up to one side of the shabby frame building and parked in the shade of the lean–to where the mower was stored along with ladders and some of the canned and boxed groceries.
The car door slammed. He knew the driver. Mrs. Burkholt. He called her Mrs. Big– Eyes to himself. She sidled past him with a wide skittery stare like he was going to grab her. He'd opened the back door last week when she was on the phone . . . She spent a lot of time on the phone . . . chatter, chatter, chatter . . . Her high voice had risen and he couldn't help hearing. ". . . supposed to help people who've been in jail, but he's so big and he has such long straggly dirty hair and he always looks sullen. I swear, he scares me to pieces . . ." He'd walked inside, his steps purposefully heavy, and thumped the case of Cokes on a counter by the shelves. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as he passed. The old cow. He didn't care about her. She'd be damn lucky if she never really knew what it was like to be scared.
The axe head swung up and crashed down. The log splintered.
On the back steps, Gretchen Burkholt gasped at the sharp crack. "Oooh. I hate that noise."
Only someone who knew Billy well would realize he was coldly angry, unblinking gaze, lines tight at the corners of his full mouth, shoulders braced.
Mayor Cosgrove's green eyes shifted from that steady stare. However, he continued full stride, his high voice penetrating. ". . . expect some accommodation of distinguished visitors. I told that policewoman of yours that I could drive, but she wouldn't listen. She made Buck Troutt get out of the car and treated him like a common criminal. Rude. Uncalled for."
"Sergeant Harrison's actions were appropriate." Billy's tone was even. "The car was driven erratically. Mr. Troutt failed the field sobriety test."
"He's a CEO." The mayor's voice was reverential. "He's thinking of buying the Mansfield property on the beach, developing it. Do you realize what that could mean to the island? The jobs, the people, the growth!" The mayor's voice rose to a squeak. "This matter must be dealt with immediately. None of this should have happened. Why, we just had a few drinks at the club. Nobody was on the road. He had a little trouble seeing in the dark. And there's no reason why that unattractive woman should have had her car parked outside the country club gates." The mayor's eyes slitted. "Let's be clear. If the officer filing the report doesn't appear in court, the charge will be dropped. I expect Sergeant Harrison to be off the island that day."
Billy slowly stood. "Sergeant Harrison will continue to perform
her duties."
The mayor bounced to his feet, his penguin– plump face malevolent. "Your contract comes up before the council in three weeks. As police chief, you are expected to make the island attractive to investors."
Billy nodded gravely. "Anyone interested in living on Broward's Rock can be assured that the laws are properly enforced." He turned and walked toward the ornate hand– carved door, a fancy office for a small— but powerful— man.
As if on cue, she heard a distant throaty rumble and recognized the roar of Max's Maserati. They usually drove separately to the marina shops, she to her mystery bookstore and he to Confidential Commissions, his rather unusual office where he offered counsel to people in trouble. Max was quick to insist he wasn't a private detective, which required particular qualifications in the sovereign state of South Carolina. He was comfortable in his job description. He provided advice. If discovering information was essential to serving his clients, that certainly didn't make him a private eye.
The Maserati's engine cut off .
Annie pictured the man in her life swinging out of his red sports car. Max loved his Maserati, but he didn't drive the powerful and swift car because it was expensive. He savored the power and elegance of the ultimate driving machine. Annie was willing to spot everyone an indulgence. The Maserati was Max's. Hers? She possessed an original perfect first– edition— complete with color plate illustrations— of The Man in Lower Ten by Mary Roberts Rinehart. Certainly the Maserati was hugely more expensive than the book, but for both of them, the joy was in the object and never in the price.
Annie's smile was wry. Her husband often suggested she was a captive of Calvinistic attitudes, not, he airily continued, a difficulty he'd ever faced. Yes, they were different. Max grew up rich. She and her single mom worried about paying the bills. Annie's home had been in wind– swept Amarillo; Max's in an affluent Connecticut suburb. Annie couldn't imagine life without work; Max firmly believed life was made for pleasure. But one unforgettable night, their eyes had met at a crowded after– theater party in Greenwich Village. She'd thought them too diff erent ever to be together and she'd run away to the little South Carolina sea island of Broward's Rock. Max had followed. Perhaps they weren't suited in some ways, but there was never any doubt that they could not live without each other. What was love? Passion, yes, always, but love meant trust and faith and laughter. To know that Max was in a room with her made that place a haven. They'd known happy days and tough days, but it was always the two of them together.
She crossed her fingers. On both hands. Not, of course, that she was superstitious. But she and Max had come near the unraveling of their lives, and she never ceased to be thankful for their escape. Underneath their cheerful banter, they possessed a sober realization of life's uncertainties.
She turned to look across the boardwalk at the shops that curved in a semicircle facing the marina. Death on Demand, her wonderful mystery bookstore, beckoned her, though she was braced for a frazzling day. She shivered, drew her cheerful peacock blue wool jacket close.
Her cell phone rang.
Annie slipped the cell from the pocket of her wool slacks, glanced at the caller ID, raised an eyebrow. "Hello."
"Don't think she hasn't spotted you." Ingrid spoke in a whisper.
The connection ended. Her clerk was giving her a heads–up. Another day, another encounter with Annie's always unpredictable mother–in–law, Laurel Darling Roethke. Where Max was handsome, Laurel was gorgeous. Silver blond hair framed a fine bone structure. Yet there was more than beauty; there was a hint of rollicking adventure and enthusiasm and eagerness for life. When Laurel walked into a room, everyone suddenly felt touched by magic. Laurel's Nordic blue eyes might sometimes be slightly spacey, but they could also be incredibly perceptive.
Annie moved toward the steps to the shops. Annie had survived Laurel's flirtation with cosmic karma, her delight in saints, most especially the remarkable Teresa of Ávila, and most recently her determination to decorate the bookstore with photographs of exotic cats. Cat photos now hung on the walls among book posters— Harlan Coben's new thriller, Mary Saums's clever new Thistle and Twigg—and were adored by customers.
Annie enjoyed looking at them as well. As she well knew, cats ruled, especially Agatha, Death on Demand's sleek black resident feline.
Annie reached the front door, thoughts whirling. Laurel was no stranger to the store, but today was challenging, a Beaufort book club arriving for a talk by Emma Clyde and a light lunch. Had the chicken salad been delivered? Emma, the island's famous crime writer, would sign copies of her new Marigold Rembrandt mystery, The Case of the Convivial Cat. Woe betide Annie if they ran out of books. Woe betide Annie if she'd ordered too many, making the author feel the signing was a flop.
Annie drew a deep breath. Chicken salad . . . the new books . . . Leave a couple of boxes in the storeroom? She didn't have time for Laurel this morning. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the charm of Laurel's most recent preoccupation, but she insisted— nicely— upon audience participation. Annie wasn't sure why she objected so strenuously, but she'd always refused to wear silly hats, watch Charlie Chaplin, or draw undue attention to herself.
She stopped with her hand on the knob. Good grief, was she a
pompous ass?
What harm would it do to play along? Get in the spirit?
Annie gave a decided head shake. Responding quickly to a question before she had time to think was too much like a public Rorschach test. She took a deep breath, opened the door, activating the new Inner Sanctum door recording that Ingrid's husband, Duane, had installed before Halloween. The satisfying creak of hinges foretold chills and thrills, exactly what readers would find in the finest mystery bookstore north of Florida's Murder on the Beach.
Annie stepped inside, drew another happy breath, this time of books and bindings and coffee.
Slender and intense, her graying hair in a new short cut, Ingrid worked at the front counter, smiling, chatting, and ringing up sales with practiced efficiency. A long line of customers snaked toward the coffee bar. Annie didn't spot her mother–in–law. She smiled in relief. No doubt Laurel was sharing her new vision with one of the ladies from Beaufort. Wonderful. Annie had plenty on her plate. She needed to make sure there was enough chicken salad and help Henny Brawley take orders at the coffee bar. Emma's crusty tone— oh, dear, was she being combative with a reader?—was commandingly audible over the twitter of the club ladies who had arrived way too early and—
"Annie dear!" Her mother–in–law popped from behind the beaded curtain that screened the alcove to the children's mystery section. "Think of the sun!" Laurel beamed. Was it accidental that she was positioned precisely in the glow of a ceiling spotlight? Whatever, her silver gold hair gleamed and her patrician face with deep– set blue eyes, fine bridged nose, and dimpled chin was strikingly lovely.
Annie stared. On anyone else, Laurel's costume would have looked absurd, a pink straw farmer's hat, a red– and– white plaid shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, navy denim overalls accented by gold buttons at the straps and pockets, and a pink leather version of farm boots. On Laurel, the result was fetching. The farmer's hat boasted, of course, a sunflower tucked beneath the cerise hat band.
Laurel plucked a two– foot sunflower from a capacious pocket, held the blossom out to Annie with a winning smile. "Sunflower time," she caroled, the pink boots giving a quick Cossack tattoo. "Quick now— five seconds to answer— picture a Sunflower and sweet potatoes. First thought?"
Involuntarily, an obedient mouse in Laurel's mental laboratory, home popped into Annie's mind, a memory of a sunflower spoon handle as her mother lifted steaming sugar– streaked candied sweet potatoes to her plate. Annie's lips parted, clamped shut.
"Time's up." Laurel's tone was kind, not chiding. Her manners were exquisite. The five– second limit served two purposes. A quick response was certain to reflect innermost thoughts, but the deadline also afforded an unobtrusive escape hatch for those unwilling to participate. Laurel's smile was approving, whether she received an answer or not. She continued with no hint of irritation, "I'm sure the magic of Sunflowers will be with you now, adding warmth and happiness to your day. Here is a Sunflower just for you." When she spoke, the flower's name was clearly capitalized.
As the days had shortened and the onshore breeze freshened, Laurel had received a bouquet of sunflowers from a new beau. Always seeking the inner meaning of events large and small, she discovered that sunflowers were considered happy flowers, their faces reminiscent of the life– giving warmth of the sun. Ergo, she devised her Sunflower Game, the better, she assured Annie, to encourage happy thoughts that everyone needed, especially in winter.
Annie took the bristly stalk, looked at the flower, noted two opposite spirals, which indicated this was a disk sunflower . . . With an effort, she yanked her mind back toward the work harness. She had learned more about sunflowers in the last few weeks than she'd ever wanted to know, and today she didn't have time for extraneous sunflower thoughts.
"It's gorgeous, Laurel." And, of course, it was, the petals as softly gold as summer sunshine. "Thank you." Clutching the stalk, she edged down the congested center aisle, heading for the coffee bar area where the ladies would lunch and, at one side, Emma Clyde would regally hold forth as the Queen of Crime.
Despite her sunflower–be–damned mood, she couldn't help overhearing Laurel confide to a cherubic elderly lady listening with a slightly bemused expression, "Sunflower disk flowers are both male and female and are fertile. Isn't that a happy thought on a cold winter day?"
Fertile. If anyone ever knew about . . . Annie wrenched her mind away from any consideration of her oft– married mother–in–law's romantic proclivities as well as sunflower trivia. There was much to be done . . .
The next hour passed in a frantic blur, food served, spilled iced tea mopped up, a controversy as to seating settled, cell phones hopefully turned off , and finally spiky– haired Emma Clyde in a caftan that looked like a cross between a ship's billowing sail and a flannel nightgown rose majestically to her feet. Stalwart, sturdy, stern–visaged, self– absorbed, and a sponge for attention, Emma looked benignly at her audience. "Marigold Rembrandt and I"—she might have been describing royalty—"have perhaps enjoyed our finest moment—"
Annie watched with a cool gaze. Was Emma grandiose or what?
Emma's knife– sharp blue eyes paused in their sweep of the room.
Annie promptly rearranged her face in what she devoutly hoped would pass as an entranced expression.
"—in The Case of the Convivial Cat. Marigold once again takes Inspector Houlihan to task as she insightfully, really quite brilliantly—"
Annie maintained her pleasant expression. Implicit was the premise that Marigold was simply a reflection of the incredible sagacity of author Emma Clyde.
"—follows the cunningly inserted clues—"
Annie's cell phone rang. She'd been thrilled when Duane Webb had downloaded the Inner Sanctum creak to serve as her ringtone, mirroring the sounds when Death on Demand's front door opened, but the piercing squeal blared in the hushed quiet of the bookstore.
Emma came to a full stop. Her icy blue eyes slitted. She folded her sturdy arms across her chest and gazed at Annie with a stony expression.
Annie fumbled in her pocket. Creeaaak . . . She'd gone from table to table and pled with charm for all cell phones to be turned off. How could she have forgotten her own?
Phone in hand, she flipped it open, whispered, "I can't talk now . . ."
Emma waited, the Empress Dowager contemplating a lower life form.
Some of the ladies turned to stare. A few made disapproving murmurs.
Annie heard a familiar semihysterical voice. "Annie, you have to come . . . Such a fright always . . . I don't think I can stay here with that big hulking brute . . . and"—her voice puffed with self–importance—"I have to decide what to do about that index card that I found . . ."
Annie took a deep breath. Gretchen Burkholt lived in a world of extreme stress, a gentle rain heralded a nor'easter, any stray cat was surely rabid, the potato salad at the picnic might harbor salmonella . . . Annie and Gretchen were among volunteers at Better Tomorrow, the island charity shop, which offered groceries, clothing, job tips, firewood, help with bills, and encouragement to those in a financial bind. Better Tomorrow's client base had swelled during the recent bad times. Gretchen had switched volunteer slots today so Annie could host the luncheon and book event. Therefore, Annie was in no position to be abrupt.
Emma cleared her throat. Emphatically.
Annie heard snatches of Gretchen's increasing frenzied patter. ". . . I always check the clothing, especially when someone's recently deceased . . . family members can be too distraught . . . and everyone was so puzzled that he was out there . . ."
Annie broke in, hating to be rude, but she had to end the distraction before Emma rose and departed with the grace of an off ended rhinoceros. "Gretchen, sorry. Have to go. Call back. Leave me a message. As soon as the signing's over"—anything to be free—"I'll do whatever you want." She ended the call, clicked off the phone, dropped it in her pocket.
"I'm very sorry. Unexpected call. I forgot to turn my phone off ." This last in a mumble. "Now I know Emma will forgive me and share with you the wonderful"—great emphasis—"scene where Marigold Rembrandt"—Annie always did her duty and had read the new book even though she loathed the supercilious redheaded sleuth—"realizes in the nick of time that the inverted coffee cup means that Professor Willingham is not what he seems to be."
It was touch and go. Finally, almost graciously, Emma resumed her talk. Fortunately, discussing herself or her work always put Emma in a great good humor.
Annie lifted a cappuccino in a toast to Henny Brawley, longtime customer and mystery connoisseur. Henny was not only a good friend, she always offered an extra hand at special events. "Thanks, Henny. You were great."
Ingrid nodded in agreement. "To help with cleanup is above and beyond." She also raised her cup, a steaming Kona brew with a dash of raspberry sauce.
"You are very welcome." Henny's well– modulated voice reflected her accomplishments as a valued actress in local theater productions. "You know it's my pleasure. Emma was . . . Emma." Her tone was amused.
The three women exchanged understanding glances. Emma
Clyde was a terror.
Henny's smile was wicked. "I wish you could have seen your face, Annie, as you tried to disengage from that call."
Annie sat bolt upright. The phone call . . . "Gretchen subbed for me this afternoon at Better Tomorrow. I told her to call back and leave a message. There've been a couple of calls. I had it on vibrate." As she spoke, Annie retrieved the messages, lifted the phone to listen.
Ingrid murmured to Henny, "It's good that Emma didn't have a dagger!"
Gretchen didn't bother with a salutation in the second call. "Hope you can come pretty soon . . . really awkward . . . Maybe it's better to let sleeping dogs lie . . . Oh, there he is again"—the voice dropped to a whisper—"always clumping in and looking mean . . ." A long silence. "He's gone back out." She spoke normally. "I don't want to be here alone with him any more . . . I'm going to tell Henny. If she doesn't schedule somebody with me, I'm not coming back . . . Anyway, I don't know what to do about the card . . . I heard the police or maybe it was the Coast Guard asked anyone with information to contact them . . . Nobody saw him leave the house . . ."
Annie concentrated. What on earth was Gretchen talking about?
". . . but the card makes it clear . . . No wonder he took the kayak out without telling anyone . . . I don't want to cause trouble, but I think I should let the family know . . . Of course that's what I should do . . ."
The call ended.
Her second message, left twenty– six minutes later, began, "I told the housekeeper." Gretchen sounded disappointed. "It would have been nicer if I could have spoken to Mrs. Hathaway, but the maid said she was out. Anyway, I hope the maid got everything straight. I mentioned the names in the note, but I didn't want to say too much. That wouldn't have been right. I tried to be tactful." She sounded plaintive. "I explained I was going through Mr. Hathaway's clothes and found a very personal message in the pocket of a jacket. I told her the card seemed connected to his going out that night in the kayak. Well, obviously it was. There were several names and one of them was in a different handwriting. I don't suppose we'll ever know what that meant. I mean, the card named names, said what was happening 'tonight.' " Her tone put the word in quote marks. "No wonder he went out in the kayak. A scandal really . . ."
Annie now understood Gretchen's mention of the Coast Guard. Two weeks earlier, well– known island resident Everett Hathaway's dead body, buoyed by a life vest, had been found floating not far from his overturned kayak. An autopsy listed drowning due to unconsciousness as a result of hypothermia as the cause of death.
"I know the note to Everett is important because I found it in the pocket of the tweed jacket he wore the day he died. I saw him that last day in the jacket, a blue– flecked tweed with blue leather buttons. You know how he dressed. He always wanted to look like he was a Brit. Anyway, he died that night . . . The note was in the right pocket. Obviously that wasn't what he wore in the kayak. Jeans and a warm jacket probably. Anyway"—Gretchen's tone was bright—"I said the note and some coins and a pocketknife were here and could be picked up anytime. I have them on the table in the sorting room. So, that's that. Oh." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Here he is again. He scares me. When the signing's over, please come and keep me company."
The connection ended.
Annie gave an exasperated sigh. She took a hearty sip of her now lukewarm cappuccino. "Gretchen's more trouble than she's worth." Her smile at Henny was rueful. "I should have asked you to take my turn, but I wanted you here today." Henny both volunteered and scheduled volunteers at Better Tomorrow. "Gretchen claims she's scared of Jeremiah. I'll admit he's scruff y. That straggly brown hair under a ratty do–rag makes him look like a mean biker, and sometimes he doesn't shave."
Henny looked concerned. "Has Jeremiah done anything to frighten Gretchen?"
"He clumps when he walks inside." Annie's tone was dry.
"Oh, horror." Ingrid was disdainful.
"She wants me to come over." Annie swung down from the coffee bar stool. It would be pleasant to be out in the cool late afternoon. "I don't mind. She did me a favor."
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Entries in 'conviction' (21)
Raymond overseeing next Splinter Cell
Ubisoft Toronto is already working on a new Splinter Cell sequel, under the watchful eyes of general manager Jade Raymond.
NPD: Splinter Cell tops April chart
Ubisoft's long-awaited Splinter Cell: Conviction has emerged as the best selling game in April in the US market, according to numbers from NPD.
UK CHARTS: Splinter Cell still top
Ubisoft's Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Conviction has been named the ELSPA GfK Chart-Track All Formats Number One for the second week in a row.
NZ: Police halt Splinter Cell PR stunt
A PR event for Ubisoft's Splinter Cell: Conviction has hugely backfired in New Zealand after members of the public believed that a man with a gun was on the run.
UK CHARTS: Splinter Cell claims no.1
After a longer than hoped absence from the global games market, the return of the Splinter Cell series has seen the latest release, the Xbox 360 only Conviction, debut at ...
Free Conviction DLC every week
Ubisoft has stated that recent release Splinter Cell: Conviction will receive new DLC on a weekly basis – and best of all, it's going to be free.
Asda selling Conviction for £29.71
Supermarket ASDA will from midnight tonight offer Ubisoft's Xbox 360 release Splinter Cell: Conviction for just £29.71.
RETAIL BIZ: Splinter Cell: Conviction
Click here to access the RETAIL BIZ Previews section, where you'll find the definitive guide to some of the biggest titles hitting shelves in the near future.
Conviction to "re-invigorate stealth genre"
Ubisoft plans to capture a new audience with Splinter Cell: Conviction by re-revitalising the stealth genre.
360 Splinter Cell bundle confirmed
Accompanying the long-awaited release of Ubisoft's Splinter Cell: Conviction in the UK on April 16th, a hardware bundle including a 250GB limited edition Xbox 360 has also been announced.
Splinter Cell heading back to PS3?
April's upcoming Splinter Cell: Conviction will, thanks to a deal with Microsoft, be exclusive to Xbox 360 – but don't assume that the same can be said of its ...
Splinter Cell: Conviction dated
Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Conviction has been given a concrete UK release date of April 16th.
Ubisoft postpones Splinter Cell: Conviction
Ubisoft has delayed the eagerly awaited Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Conviction to an April release.
Splinter Cell Conviction CE emerges
Publisher Ubisoft has detailed the contents of its Limited Collector's Edition version of the upcoming Splinter Cell Conviction, which is due for release on Xbox 360 and PC on February ...
Splinter Cell: Conviction CE unveiled
Ubisoft has unveiled the contents of the Collector's Edition for Splinter Cell: Conviction.
Splinter Cell 360-only "until further notice"
Developer Ubisoft has reportedly confirmed that its Splinter Cell series has once again become an Xbox-only franchise, silencing rumours of a possible multiplatform future for Sam Fisher.
Splinter Cell delayed yet again
Splinter Cell Conviction and Red Steel 2, whose releases were previously planned for Ubisoft's third fiscal quarter, will now be released in the fourth fiscal quarter - which means an ...

subset: commoncrawl


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Submit your videos for a chance to film with TGR during the 2011/2012 season and have an edit of your best video shown on One For The Road's film tour. Additionally, each month's best video as determined by TGR will win a GoPro HD Camera for the contest's five month duration.
Location: Whistler Age: 14 Tags: "grom contest" tgr Rider: Gary Davis Filmer: Johnny Davis Rating: 19 Thumbs Up / 1 Thumbs Down
Ever dreamed of becoming a ski or snowboard movie star? The 2012 TGR Grom Contest will make that dream a reality for one lucky participant. Groms 17 years of age or younger may submit up to one ski or snowboard edit each month for a chance to film with us during the 2012/2013 season and have an edit of their footage shown before our 2012 film tour. A GoPro HD Hero 2 will also be awarded to our favorite edit from each month.
What You Need to Know
•You may submit up to 1 video each month
•Our favorite video from each month will win a GoPro HD Hero 2
•Multiple submissions are not required and a single edit can win the Grand Prize
•While a killer edit may suffice, multiple submissions may help us get to know you better
•"Likes" and voting will not influence judging but will help get your video seen
•The contest will be judged by top pros such as Jeremy Jones, Sammy Carlson, and Sage Cattabriga-Alosa as well as TGR producers.
View Prize Details •
View Contest Rules
Contest Ends June 30th
Austin Stromme//2012 Grom Contest Edit
One Run Thats All
Carson Lehouillier Grom Contest 2012
Evan McEachran 2012
Trevor Semmens 11/12
Season 2012
Chase Palmer season edit
TGR Edit -- Reid Smith 2012
Micah Evangelista Season Edit
Sam Winship Is a Soul Man (2011/2012)
Luke Smith 2012
AJ Scolaro
Connor Clayton
Daniel Tisi's Colorado Edit
Year end Edit 2011
Jack Finn Mid-Spring Edit
Greg Spaulding 2012
Matt P'ng 11-12 Winter
Sam Schwartz 2011-2012 Season Edit
Teton Gravity Research. © 2014 All rights reserved.


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My daughter, Kirsten, writes for four blogs.(The Urban Nest, Everything but the dress, On Stage with Kirsten Lendyke and 5th Floor Photography) She gets paid to do this! Kirsten was my go-to person. I asked her what she thought and if I should or could do this. She was very supportive and encouraging. Kirsten continues to be the one I go to when I have questions, especially about photo's! She is the one who brings me down when I have a moment of panic, too.
I wrote about 2 weeks worth of blogs before I made my presence known online. I found once I started the ideas just flowed. I continued to read other genealogist's blogs for inspiration. Today marks three months from when I went 'live' online.
I started blogging because I wanted a way to share my research, photo's, and stories with family members. I wanted to have future generations discover my writings. Plus, I hoped to connect with other family members. What I didn't realize was what a wonderful community of bloggers I would come in contact with. I knew genealogists were some of the most generous people I have known. I have benefited from their generosity in ways I am not sure I will be able to repay. The contacts I have made through genealogy have touched me in ways I didn't think possible. I only hope I have been able to help others as I have been helped. I appreciate all the support I have received from other bloggers. I consider this blog a work in progress and each week I learn something new about blogging, usually from other bloggers! What a great community to be a part of. Thank You!
Here's a shout out to those first blogs, on a cold February day, who inspired me, all top 40 awardees:
Tom at GeneaBloggers
Miriam at AnceStories: The Stories of My Ancestors
Apple at Apple's Tree
Vickie at BeNotForgot
Sheri at Educated Genealogist
Greta at Greta's Genealogy Blog
Cheryl at Heritage Happens
Janet at Janet the Researcher
Becky at Kinexxions
Elizabeth at Little Bytes of Life
Luckie at Our Georgia Roots
Amy at WeTree
Bill at West in New England
Donna at What's Past is Prologue
In addition, I want to acknowledge the following people for their support and comments. Where would we be without comments?
Barbara at Life From the Roots
Jenna at Desperately Seeking Surnames
Mindy at Roots and Branches
Kathleen at a3genealogy
Heather at Nutfield Genealogy
Terri at The Ties That Bind
Rootdigger at A Rootdigger


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Enjoy the folk/acoustic storytelling songs of Steve Poltz on Aug. 22.
Part of the Summer Nights Concert Series.
About Steve Poltz
Southern California's Steve Poltz is one of the most beloved songwriters of his generation. His music--as both a solo artist and with cult legends The Rugburns--has enjoyed long stretches in the Billboard top ten, gobbled up acres of mainstream radio and appeared in scores of television shows, commercials and movies. He has collaborated with everyone from Jewel to Glenn Tillbrook to Mojo Nixon, and his legendary live show has earned him a ferocious global fan base that makes soccer hooligans seem coquettish and reserved.
"In the tradition of John Prine and Randy Newman, Poltz's songs and albums are marked by his sense of nostalgia, his love of being in love, and his unique brand of satirical humor. Add to this his raw talent for lyrics and his appreciation for a perfect folk-pop melody and you've got a man who is truly a step beyond today's endless supply of acoustic musicians." -Dana Blaisdell, No Depression
Sign up for our Wild Beats music e-newsletter for a free Steve Poltz song.
Concert Information
Doors open at 6 p.m. and the concert begins at 7 p.m., rain or shine. Both the Aquarium and Botanic Garden will be open until 8 p.m.
Hula hoop with the Ritzy Rouge Hula Hoop Troupe from 6-8 p.m.
Blankets, lawn chairs and picnics are welcome, but please do not bring glass containers or alcoholic beverages into the park. Food, beer and wine are available for purchase.


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|Product Type: Baking/Roasting Dish
|Product Warranty: 5 year limited
|Handle Material: Stoneware
|Material: Stoneware
|Number of Items Included: 1
|Non Toxic: Yes
|Scratch Resistant: Yes
|Stain Resistant: Yes
|Shape: Rectangular
|Handles: Yes
|Microwave Safe: Yes
|Dishwasher Safe: Yes
|Refrigerator Safe: Yes
|Freezer Safe: Yes
|Maximum Temperature: 500 Fahrenheit
|Capacity in Quarts: 4 Quarts
|Product Care: Dishwasher safe, but hand washing is recommended
|Country of Manufacture: France
Questions & Answers
Le Creuset Heritage Stoneware Rectangular Dish
Le Creuset 4 Qt Rectangular Dish
Diane from Tucson, AZ– Verified Buyer
So cool, I sent this to my very sweet and awesome cousin and her awesome husband. They are GREAT host's when we visit family in Detroit. They love the dish and will not be having anymore rust in there diet. I had bought this dish for myself and love it. Thank you Dennis and Deb for your great hospitality! Love you!


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To all those people who are complaining about not being able to afford to buy tickets to the concert, why didn't you plan ahead like the rest of us did?
The fact is that I started saving up for this concert right after her "I'm Not Dead" tour. If I hadn't done that, there would be NO WAY I would be able to afford it.
It's not P!nk's fault that the tickets are expensive. She doesn't have anything to do with it personally. So if you have anyone to blame it's yourself for not planning ahead.
Omg. Thank you Pink for being so generous. As an Australian, we have all been devastated by the lives and homes that have been lost in Victoria.
On behalf of all Australians, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your generosity will help thousands of people rebuild their lives.
So hilarious! Ellen and Pink singing "So What" in the bathroom!! Lol! My stomach hurt from laughing!
No friends listed
"I was just tryin' to be myself, you go your way, I'll meet you in hell. It's all the secrets that I shouldn't tell, I've got to runaway. It's hypocritical of you, do as you say not as you do. I'll never be your perfect girl, I've got to runaway..."


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Write a tea journal, see what others are drinking and get recommendations from people you trust. Sign Up or Learn More
I am a sophomore in college and decided I needed an alternative to soda. I'm from the south so first I went on to iced tea, but decided I liked hot tea better. So, here I am.


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Donna Deter, 59
Fairpoint (Hometown)
Lung Cancer - Diagnosed 2009
Article Photos
My cancer story: In 2009, I was diagnosed with lung cancer. I had a right upper lobectomy in October of that year. The cancer was gone. By June of 2010, I noticed tumors on my right side. They were removed but the cancer had returned. At this point, I was informed I was stage 4 lung cancer with a possible 6 months to live. So many things were going on in my life at that time. My 5th grandbaby was born on the day of my diagnosis! So with that in mind, I decided I had to fight wholeheartedly and with the grace of God at my side. So I started chemo with my best friend, Nancy, by my side. She never missed a treatment! Three treatments later, my cancer was gone. Over the next three years, the cancer has come and gone, and I have been through multiple chemotherapies. So far this year, I have been remission!
Caregiver shout-out: I want to thank my wonderful family, my fabulous co-workers, and friends for keeping my spirits high, and for the laughter and support you have given me. You're the best!
Lessons learned on your cancer journey: What I have discovered is that there is HOPE! There are so many places out there to help you get through this time. The American Cancer Society is a great place to start - 1-800-227-2345.
Message to newly diagnosed and patients in treatment: I would like to say to anyone out there that is suffering with cancer, or who is a caregiver for someone with cancer, THERE IS HOPE! Surround yourself with family, friends and laughter and always keep a positive attitude. God bless you all!
Donna is a member of Fall In Step For The Fight team for Relay For Life of Belmont County and has benefitted from the Belmont County Look Good Feel Better Program. If you are a survivor and/or would like to get involved with Relay For Life, please contact Chelsea Edwards at 888.227.6446 x3206 or firstname.lastname@example.com.


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Placenta previa (pluh-SEN-tuh PREH-vee-uh) occurs when a baby's placenta partially or totally covers the mother's cervix — the doorway between the uterus and the vagina. Placenta previa can cause severe bleeding before or during delivery.
The placenta provides oxygen and nutrients to your growing baby and removes waste products from your baby's blood. It attaches to the wall of your uterus, and your baby's umbilical cord arises from it. In most pregnancies, the placenta attaches at the top or side of the uterus. In placenta previa, the placenta attaches to the lower area of the uterus.
If you have placenta previa, you'll probably be restricted to bed rest for a portion of your pregnancy and you'll likely require a caesarean section (C-section) to safely deliver your baby.
Painless, bright red vaginal bleeding during the second half of pregnancy is the main sign of placenta previa. The amount of bleeding may range from light to heavy. The bleeding usually stops without treatment, but it nearly always recurs days or weeks later. Some women also experience contractions.
If you experience any vaginal bleeding during your second or third trimester, call your doctor right away. If the bleeding is severe, seek emergency medical care.
The placenta grows wherever the embryo implants itself in the uterus. If the embryo implants itself in the lower portion of the uterus, the placenta might grow over the cervix — causing placenta previa.
Most cases of placenta previa are diagnosed at the time of a second trimester ultrasound examination. If the placenta is just barely reaching the cervix, the situation will resolve itself because expansion of the uterus pulls the area of placental attachment higher up in the uterus, away from the cervical opening. If the placenta is found to be all the way across the cervix, however, it is unlikely to resolve with time.
Persistent types of placenta previa have been associated with:
Women are at higher risk for placenta previa if they've had previous surgeries involving the uterus, such as:
Placenta previa is also more common among women who:
If you have placenta previa, your health care provider will monitor you and your baby carefully to reduce the risk of these serious complications:
If you've been pregnant for more than 12 weeks and you develop any vaginal bleeding, call your pregnancy health care provider. He or she may recommend immediate medical care — depending on your symptoms, your personal health history and how far along you are in the pregnancy.
Before your appointment, you may want to:
Below are some basic questions to ask your health care provider about placenta previa. If any additional questions occur to you during your visit, don't hesitate to ask.
Your health care provider is likely to ask you a number of questions, including:
Placenta previa is diagnosed through ultrasound, either during a routine prenatal appointment or after an episode of vaginal bleeding.
A definitive diagnosis may require a combination of abdominal ultrasound and transvaginal ultrasound, which is done through a wand-like device placed inside your vagina. Your health care provider will closely monitor the location of the transducer in your vagina to prevent any bleeding. In rare instances, magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) may be used to clearly determine the placental location.
If your health care provider suspects that you may have placenta previa, he or she will avoid routine vaginal exams to reduce the risk of heavy bleeding. You may need additional ultrasounds to determine the exact location of your placenta before delivery. Your baby's heartbeat may be tracked as well.
Treatment for placenta previa depends on various factors, including:
If you have little or no bleeding, your health care provider may recommend bed rest at home. Depending on the circumstances, you may need to lie in bed most of the time — sitting and standing only when necessary. You'll need to avoid sex, which can trigger bleeding. Exercise is usually off-limits, too. Be prepared to seek emergency medical care if you begin to bleed.
If the placenta doesn't completely cover your cervix, you may be allowed to attempt a vaginal delivery. If you begin to bleed heavily, you may need an emergency C-section.
If you're bleeding, you may need bed rest in the hospital. If the bleeding is severe, you may need a blood transfusion to replace lost blood. You may also benefit from medications to prevent premature labor.
Your health care provider will likely plan a C-section as soon as the baby can be safely delivered, ideally after 36 weeks of pregnancy. If it's not possible to wait, you will need an earlier C-section. In this case, you may be given corticosteroids to speed your baby's lung development.
If your bleeding can't be controlled or your baby is in distress, you may need an emergency C-section — even if the baby is premature.
Pregnancy is supposed to be a time of happy anticipation. If you're diagnosed with placenta previa, you're sure to be worried about how your condition will affect your baby. Some of these strategies may help:
Original article: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/placenta-previa/basics/definition/con-20032219
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Mayo Clinic is a not-for-profit organization and proceeds from Web advertising help support our mission. Mayo Clinic does not endorse any of the third party products and services advertised.
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Okay, got a Cee Bailey windshield at one inch taller and three inches wider than stock. Do I automatically need aluminum supports or can I wait to see if the stock supports break first?
Okay, got a Cee Bailey windshield at one inch taller and three inches wider than stock. Do I automatically need aluminum supports or can I wait to see if the stock supports break first?
If I were you, I'd just order up a pair of bullet-proof supports, swap them for the OEM pot-metal units, and never worrry about it again (especially in adverse weather!).
PM me for the source.
But again, that's just me..............
Kevin Greenwald - Touring Tips Editor
Nationally Certified Law Enforcement Motor Officer (Ret.)
MSF RiderCoach # 121656 (BRC,SBRC,IS,IME,SMARTrainer,THE REF Staff)
Iron Butt Association Member # 34281
I bought the Cal Sci windshield and also "automatically" installed a pair of the deluxe supports. Now I find that I'm not so enthused about the non-stock windshield and have re-installed the OEM one. That makes the deluxe supports somewhat superfluous.
My point is, it looks like I could have saved some $$ and labor if I hadn't been quite so hasty in buying the supports. I should have given the aftermarket windshield a longer test period to see whether I preferred it over the OEM one. (And hopefully the stock supports would have lasted for my full test period).
Priors: '13 K1600GT, '08 R1200RT, '04 R1150RT, '05 R1200GS, '73 R75/5.
Motodan - I'm adding the bike model/year to the thread title. That will probably come in useful for other owners of an RT who are considering a different windshield. Please consider doing this yourself when starting threads..
And have a great Holiday!
Don Eilenberger http://www.eilenberger.net
Spring Lk Heights NJ NJ Shore BMW Riders New Sweden BMW Riders
'07 R1200R (current ride) and some bimmers.. and a Porsche
Mine lasted almost 2 days after installing the cee bailey's +2. I would order them asap!
I do ride in TX and I'm convinced windy conditions are to blame.
Can you not divulge the source more widely? Please.
Kevin Huddy
Intrepid Incompetent
Tm Pterodactyl MT Outpost
The above is the web site link.
I have a set for my Cee Bailey. The old ones broke after about a year. The new ones are great.
Also, if you get a windscreen that is too tall, you can cut it to your own size. I made a post on how to do this but it got deleted (it was linked to XPLOR and XPLOR aint no more!).
Last edited by RoboRider; 12-22-2010 at 10:14 PM.
Rob C. , Raleigh, NC
2007 CBR600RR & 09 V-Star
Suzuki DR 350
They are milled out of a piece of 2024 Aluminum and will be powder coated black. You have to remove your original plastic bushings and transfer them to the new ones. The cost of the BMW ones are listed at $70.00 each. The cost of these are $45.00 each plus shipping.
Contact info is:
Don Westra
West Tool & Design Inc.
1220 North Tower Road
Fergus Falls, MN 56537
Phone: 218-739-4990
Fax: 218-739-4989
email: email@example.com
Website: http://www.westtoolff.com/index_file...l_products.htm
I would try calling in your order over the phone. That worked easiest for me.
Good Luck!
Kevin Greenwald - Touring Tips Editor
Nationally Certified Law Enforcement Motor Officer (Ret.)
MSF RiderCoach # 121656 (BRC,SBRC,IS,IME,SMARTrainer,THE REF Staff)
Iron Butt Association Member # 34281
If you happen to be on the road more than a short distance from home base when you break the stockers with an oversized screen, you won't be a happy camper. Stiff crosswinds and vibrations increase the chance and speed of breakage.
The West brackets aren't going to break and you can either give the stockers away or pitch them after changing.
Change only takes a few minutes and doesn't need any fancy tools.
Hmmn... I have seen this topic many times before. I bought an extra large ztechnic windshield. I asked ztechnic point blank if I needed to replace the stock pieces. They advised no, as the oem pieces are made of high quality polycarbonate (if I remember correctly) and said there is no need for replacement. Granted I have only put 10k miles on the bike after getting the new shield. There are no signs of problems. I have traveled through some nasty winds (cross winds, straight winds, sudden blasts) in, Kansas, Wyoming, Utah Oregon. Granted I do not run with the shield all the way up. The strut pieces are either parallel or slightly elevated during my normal riding. I did run it all the way up through one rain storm. As of now I have no plans of purchasing replacements. If someone else has experience with this shield, please advise.
09 R12rt, 01 KTM 200 Exc, 84 Honda Big Red
98 Katana 750 (gone to a new home)
2000 R1100rt sold @ 72,000
Iron Butt #24605
To my knowledge, they're still pot metal (slag).
By the way, even if BMW did transition to "polycarbonate,' this is merely a thermoplastic polymer, going by the trade name of Lexan - in other words - a simple plastic.
If you boost the stress (pressure) on the shield, it's probably only a matter of time before a pot metal strut snaps, oddly almost always in the act of lowering. Happened to me and others that way after about 18 months, but that's the kicker - not an exact science when that stress fracture will finally jump up and bite you.
Last edited by Greenwald; 12-23-2010 at 02:51 PM.
Kevin Greenwald - Touring Tips Editor
Nationally Certified Law Enforcement Motor Officer (Ret.)
MSF RiderCoach # 121656 (BRC,SBRC,IS,IME,SMARTrainer,THE REF Staff)
Iron Butt Association Member # 34281
Stock brackets are not plastic- the writer is either confused or he got bad advice. (Perhaps he is simply mixing up screen materials- polycarbonate or acrylic)
Re the Z Technik screen I'd hazard an opinion that it is a bit less likely to lead to early bracket breakage than some of the Cee Bailey's, Aeroflow and others that are very large. Here's why I think that might be true BUT its only a guess.
Any added larger screen "hits" more air than the stocker. And the extra frontal area is obvious especially in gusting crosswinds coming from forward where with some screens it can feel almost lke the bike is bogging in molasses when it encounters a sizeable gust In trying several screens on my 08 RT I noticed this feeling varied a lot with different screen types. The Z Technic screen is a little more flexible than some and perhaps because it is a little narrower at the base has less of the resistance feel (though a good bit more than stock) than others such as the (wider at the base) Cal Sci, etc.
Still, precisely because having brackets break riding is no fun (and potentially dangerous) and I do a lot that is a distance both from home and dealers, it seemed prudent to either replace or carry spares and there seems no reason to carry extra stock parts that are both worse materials and more expensive.
Speed also no doubt influences breakage. Most of my riding is above 70 mph, some a good deal higher. If I rode around town a lot or near a dealer, I might not care but I wouldn't own an RT just to do that- there are better "town" and "urban" bikes for sure- The RT is in its element when combining speed with distance being more or less the 2 wheeled equivalent of gentleman's sport coupe, rather than a sports car or 4 door sedan.
Above comments are for 05-09 and may not be relevant to 2010 and later- don't know if they improved the bracket when they changed the screen design for 2010.
Seem to remember hearing they were strengthened but have never checked.
Anyone know?
You don't need to be any sort of engineering genius to understand that using fatigue prone pot metal for a stressed bracket is simply a dumb idea that is all about saving $, not about quality parts. There are other examples of poor design choices on the RT such as centerstand bolts that are both a size too small and can impose high shear loads on the bolt threads (and fortuneately break only rarely given the hazards of such breakage), the fpc well that collects water, etc....
I also have a Cal Sci windshield but never even thought of changing the brackets. You guys have scared me straight! I see that they are $90 on that Westtool site above. Are they really necessary and are there other sources that may be cheaper? I wonder if anyone has actually had broken brackets while riding?
Into the Wind
2007 Kawasaki Vulcan 1500 Classic
Since the Cal-Sci shields have a hole in them (and thus some back-pressure in play), maybe you don't need the beefed up supports.
As for other sources - don't know - liked the Westtool ones just fine.
As for breaking while riding, mine snapped after 18 months of stressing the OEM struts with a larger, Cee Baily shield.
Good Luck with whatever you decide, and Ride Safe.
Kevin Greenwald - Touring Tips Editor
Nationally Certified Law Enforcement Motor Officer (Ret.)
MSF RiderCoach # 121656 (BRC,SBRC,IS,IME,SMARTrainer,THE REF Staff)


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Orlando >Bars & Clubs > Dragon Room Orlando
25 W Church St, Orlando, FL | Directions 3280128.540460 -81.379599
Fri 9:00 pm-2:00 am
Sat:10:00 pm-2:00 am
Neighborhoods: Central Business District, Northeast
Dragon Room Cocktail Boutique is a lavish, ultramodern lounge that draws a sophisticated Orlando clientele. – In Short
Dark reddish tones and bamboo-adorned tables radiate a Japanese-like feel, with sleek mosaics and romantic lighting. An illuminated ocean-blue bar and indoor waterfall create a chic lounging spot for a happening Orlando singles crowd. Choose from a large array of sweet cocktails, like the fruity Watermelon Wonder or refreshing sangria. Custom modern-design features, top-notch sound and lighting technology and an intimate dance floor make this the perfect spot to throw a special private party.
Great for booty dancing! – When we walked up, we had no problem getting in, or getting drinks once we were in. It was a really nice place, with great music! We danced the entire night, just having a good time. Most of the bartenders are girls though, so it did seem like the girls made stronger drinks for the guys. I would definitely go back!
Eh good but... – The Dragon Room is a gorgeous club; trouble is its more designed to be a 'conversation bar' yet the music is played louder then any other club in Orlando making that just plain impossible. Dance floor takes awhile to heat up and its usually just full of wannabe girls wanting to be seen.
As for the 'scene' thats the trouble. Ive never seen so many Paris Hilton wannabes (Club Paris included) baring their bellies and complaining in the bathroom about how fat they are. Its just a bit to snotty in there and since you cant converse with anyone anyways what fun can it be?
As for the music its the same crap everywhere else plays; too much PussyCat Dolls and Kanye West with some bad 80s tunes for no apparent reason.
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Working class neighborhood?
February 15, 2013 - Chris Tomassucci
Florida Senator Marco Rubio was the lucky one chosen this week to give the Republican response to President Obama's State of The Union address.
Although Rubio's response will likely be remembered for that strange reach for the water, I was more interested in the way Sen. Rubio decided to stick with the boilerplate GOP talking points that served his fellow Republicans so well in 2012.
I was hopeful Republicans would perhaps moderate a bit, maybe try to start repairing their brand with a fresh new approach to the whole darn thing. I thought Mr. Rubio would at least tone down the attacks on strawman Obama. I was wrong.
He attacked President Obama for being anti free-market, neglecting to mention the Dow Jones industrial average almost reached its all-time high just this week.
He spoke of family values and free-market fixes for all that ails us. He accused the current administration of fostering dependence on "big government," right before he talked about how his family benefits from Medicare, federally subsidized student loans and Social Security.
He attacked Obama for not mentioning Medicare in his State of The Union address despite the fact that Obama most certainly did so.
In short, it was any Mitt Romney stump speech from last year repackaged to look more moderate.
Rubio is supposed to be the new face of the Republican Party. He's Latino. He comes from a family of immigrants. He's young, etc. Time Magazine even put him on their cover recently, calling him the Republican Savior.
The problem is, he believes in all the same policies and talks all the same talking points.
His one saving grace then was to be his biography.
In an attempt to distance himself from the perception so many voters have of the GOP — that it's the party of super-wealthy people concerned mainly with helping super-wealthy people — Sen. Rubio highlighted what he called his working class roots.
From the speech:
"Mr. President, I still live in the same working class neighborhood I grew up in. My neighbors aren't millionaires. They're retirees who depend on Social Security and Medicare. They're workers who have to get up early tomorrow morning and go to work to pay the bills. They're immigrants, who came here because they were stuck in poverty in countries where the government dominated the economy."
If you watched Mr. Rubio's speech you would have been left with the impression that he lives in a poor Florida community full of destitute immigrants and retirees dependent on that terrible "big government" for things like Medicare and Social Security.
I don't know how Mr. Rubio or the rest of the GOP defines a "working class neighborhood," but Sen. Rubio's Miami home most certainly is not in one.
Here, take a look for yourself and see what you think.
Mr. Rubio's cherished "working class" home is a spacious 4 bedroom, 3.5 bathroom pad in a great Miami neighborhood. He's got it on the market right now for $675,000, as he's looking to move his family to the Washington area.
Working class neighborhood? Right.
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A rising star in the Republican Party, Florida Senator Marco Rubio found himself on the cover of Time Magazine recently as "The Republican Savior."


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2014 Miken Halo Light: FHAL12 Fastpitch
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History students helping restore forgotten cemetery
COOKEVILLE (AP) — U.S. history students from Tennessee Tech and Nashville State Community College are restoring a Cookeville cemetery that was nearly forgotten, and they are seeking information on those who were buried there.
The Cookeville Buck Cemetery was set apart for African-Americans at a time when they were not allowed to be buried with white residents.
Many of the graves do not have markers, but burial records show there are a Spanish-American War veteran and veterans of World War II and the Korean War buried there.
Carolyn Powell is a teacher who is coordinating the volunteer efforts.
She told the Cookeville Herald Citizen that the project contributes to students' knowledge of history. It also gives them hands-on experience and allows them to apply some of what they are learning.
"It's experiential history," she said.
The graveyard had become overgrown with grass, brambles and saplings, and many of the tombstones and graves had sunk.
Powell said the students have to clean the sandstone markers in a special way so as not to damage them. Then they have to reset the stones so that the rain and elements do not erode the writing.
The Putnam County Archives is seeking photographs and information on anyone who was buried in the cemetery. They are also collecting donations to mark some of the graves.
County Executive Kim Blaylock visited the site last week to see the students' progress.
"It's sad to think there's a cemetery here in the middle of the city of Cookeville and nobody even knew it was here," she said.


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We recently replaced our existing NYU Events Calendar with an application called LiveWhale Calendar. Many of you know that an updated Events Calendar has long been a key component of our NYU.edu strategy, and we are confident we have found a solution that will meet the University's current needs and set us up nicely for the future.
This new and improved NYU Event Calendar includes:
Review our Tutorial section for information on how to use the new calendar application.
If you have any questions about the main Events Calendar, please write to firstname.lastname@example.com.
If you have a student-organization or club event that you wish to post, contact the Center for Student Activities and Leadership directly at: firstname.lastname@example.com.
A Tag is a label that further defines content using simple keywords. You can use Tags to assign additional classification to your event. Site visitors will be able to search on popular Tags to surface events based on their particular interest.


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New on SG today:
Danger Country! Vampires and wizards are gettin' frisky in the spiral city.
Yesterday both my overlong troll-bashing serial Secret Voice and the underground-tinged stylings of Peepers posted.
(put you on) Linkblast:
Last time out we linked to Dan Nadel's SP7/Kickstarter takedown on TCJ, and the comments brushfire keeps on ragin'. There's plenty to chew on, and also of interest is Study Group contributor Sean T. Collins' post with thoughts about the whole thing over on his blog. It's pretty good, measured, etc. I expect the comments will get lively on that one, if not quite as vehement.
Keeping with the theme, some friends of ours have launched what I think is a very worthwhile Kickstarter:Read More


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SSW Joint Doctoral Program Grant - Deadline: Monday, December 13
Posted: November 17, 2010
I. Purpose and Eligibility
This note announces an award available to new and continuing students in the Joint Interdisciplinary Doctoral Program. It is being made available under the School of Social Work Joint Doctoral Program Grant fund and carries a value of $4,000. To be eligible for the award, a student must be in good standing and show distinguished achievements in the Joint Doctoral Program.
II. Form of Support
For 2010-2011, a $4,000 award will be made to a Doctoral student in the form of tuition or stipend support.
III. Application Materials
The following application materials are required:
1. Application coversheet
2. One page letter describing the nature of your achievements in the Joint Doctoral Program
3. Nominating letter from a faculty member knowledgeable about your work
4. Curricula Vitae
5. Current unofficial transcript
IV. Review Process
The Doctoral Committee will evaluate the application materials. The criterion they will use is the extent to which the students' past work, current Doctoral studies, and future career goals are likely to contribute to the advancement of the study.
It is anticipated that the review and decision-making will occur early Winter term.
V. Deadline for Application Materials
December 13, 2010


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Sharon E. Williams PhD
Academic Appointments
- Clinical Associate Professor, Psychiatry & Behavioral Science - Child and Adolescent Psychiatry
Key Documents
Contact Information
Clinical Offices
Child Adolescent Psychiatry Clinic 401 Quarry Rd MC 5719 Stanford, CA 94305 Tel Work (650) 723-5511 Fax (650) 724-7389Practices at Stanford Hospital and Clinics and Lucile Packard Children's Hospital
- Academic Offices
Personal Information Tel (650) 723-5511Not for medical emergencies or patient use
Professional Overview
Clinical Focus
- Psychology
- Psychology, Child and Adolescent
Academic Appointments
- Clinical Associate Professor, Psychiatry & Behavioral Science - Child and Adolescent Psychiatry
Professional Education
|University of Cincinnati OH (1995)
|Stanford University School of Medicine CA (1997)
|VA Medical Center CA (1994)
|University of Cincinnati, Clinical Psychology (1995)
- Directed Reading in Psychiatry
PSYC 299 (Aut, Win, Spr, Sum)
- Graduate Research
PSYC 399 (Aut, Win, Spr, Sum)
- Medical Scholars Research
PSYC 370 (Aut, Win, Spr, Sum)
- Teaching in Psychiatry
PSYC 290 (Aut, Win, Spr, Sum)
- Undergraduate Research
PSYC 199 (Aut, Win, Spr, Sum)
Independent Studies (5)
Postdoctoral Advisees
Patrice Crisostomo, Katharine Dahl, Sarah Forsberg, Erica Ragan, Adrianna Zimring
Scientific Focus
Current Research and Scholarly Interests
Dr. Williams work focuses primarily on cognitive and emotional recovery of children who have been medically compromised. With improved medical treatment and increased survival rates comes the need to better understand the challenges that patients face following a life threatening illness or injury. Advances in medical technology have opened the door to a better understanding of cognitive development and the recovery or deterioration process over time. Currently, Dr. Williams is examining the neuropsychological impact of treatment for children who have undergone a bone marrow transplant (BMT). The existence of cognitive deficits in this population intellectual and academic functioning, memory impairment, visual motor difficulties, problems with attention, concentration and executive functioning - has been in question over the years with research supporting both perspectives. Clinical experience and patient report, however, support the hypothesis that cognitive difficulties exist. New technologies such as imaging, used in concert with established neuropsychological measurement, offer great promise in expanding our understanding of the impact of these treatments and ultimately, improving outcome. Dr. Williams is conducting a NIH funded study examining neuropsychological functioning, imaging and genetic data. Additionally, Dr. Williams has studied children with traumatic brain injuries and continues to see these children in her clinical practice.
Clinical Trials
Publication TopicsWhat is this? | Feedback
The list of topics shown in this "tag cloud" are derived from MeSH (Medical Subject Headings) thesaurus used by the National Library of Medicine. These headings are applied by the NLM to all publications represented in the MEDLINE/PubMED® database and are imported automatically along with your publication information. The font size of the topics is relative to the number of occurrences of the specific heading across all of your publications.
-The IRT CAP team.
- Impact of Pivotal Response Training Group Therapy on Stress and Empowerment in Parents of Children With Autism JOURNAL OF POSITIVE BEHAVIOR INTERVENTIONS 2013; 15 (2): 71-78
- Brief Cognitive-Behavioral Intervention for Maternal Depression and Trauma in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit: A Pilot Study JOURNAL OF TRAUMATIC STRESS 2011; 24 (2): 230-234
- Pivotal Response Group Treatment Program for Parents of Children with Autism JOURNAL OF AUTISM AND DEVELOPMENTAL DISORDERS 2011; 41 (1): 92-101
- Is Child Psychiatric Service Different When Provided by Attendings Versus Clinicians-in-Training? ACADEMIC PSYCHIATRY 2008; 32 (5): 400-404
- Pre-bereavement meaning and post-bereavement distress in mothers of children who underwent haematopoietic stem cell transplantation BRITISH JOURNAL OF HEALTH PSYCHOLOGY 2008; 13: 419-433
- Social support from family and friends as a buffer of low spousal support among mothers of critically ill children: A multilevel modeling approach HEALTH PSYCHOLOGY 2008; 27 (5): 593-603


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Thursday, April 24, 2014
By NANCY HEISER
For the sake of argument, let's say that cost isn't an issue when you are choosing a place to eat this month.
The casual dining area adjacent to the main dining room is the setting for winter bistro meals, including an unforgettable $25 hamburger, at the White Barn Inn in Kennebunk.
Gregory Rec/Staff Photographer
WINTER BISTRO AT THE WHITE BARN INN, 37 Beach Ave., Kennebunk Beach. 967-2321; whitebarninn.com
HOURS: Bistro menu served from 5:30 p.m. Wednesday through Friday and Sunday
CREDIT CARDS: Visa, Mastercard and American Express
PRICE RANGE: Soup and salad, $10 to $22; light fare, $15 to $22; pizzas and entrees, $18 to $36
VEGETARIAN: Yes
GLUTEN-FREE: Yes. The kitchen is able to accommodate any dietary needs.
KIDS: Welcome
RESERVATIONS: Recommended
BAR: Full. Sizable and well-curated wine list, $31 and up; 22 offerings by the glass.
WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: No
BOTTOM LINE: The bistro offering at this top-notch luxury inn offers excellent casual food at very high prices in a genteel atmosphere with flawless service. Food is the category I weigh the most in my reviews, and the quality deserves four stars, yet the menu offerings merit one to two stars for value. Five stars for service and atmosphere. Only you know if the mix is right for you.
Ratings follow this scale and take into consideration food, atmosphere, service and value:
* Poor **Fair ***Good ****Excellent *****Extraordinary.
The Maine Sunday Telegram visits an establishment twice if the first dining experience was unsatisfactory. The reviewer dines anonymously.
You have heard wonderful things about grand chef Jonathan Cartwright's prix fixe menu at the White Barn Inn in Kennbunk Beach. That haute dinner experience has been reviewed in these pages (to a five-star assessment) recently enough to avoid a repeat. So I ducked in to see what the kitchen does with "ordinary" dishes from the inn's more casual winter bistro menu. It's offered until the end of March.
The question remains: Would you pay $25 for a hamburger?
Many will say, "No way." Others might concede, "If it's amazing." "That depends," comes the chorus from those who have the money for the occasional splurge but can't quite think through this sticker shock. For that price, even Warren Buffet might stay home and have a Nebraskan rib eye.
What if I say you can enjoy the exquisite ambience of this luxury inn, listen to live music played on a grand piano by a recording artist (Thomas Snow) and find service as perfect as it could be?
And oh, that hamburger? It is perfectly cooked to order -- just a touch of rare, with a thin, crusty coat. It's Waygu beef (a Japanese breed) and sirloin so tender and finely ground that it could pass for filet mignon -- no exaggeration -- and you can also get homemade truffle ketchup with that ($2 extra).
It's an unforgettable burger, and I don't say that lightly. But you might be slightly disappointed in the ordinary steak fries, which are uniform in size and nicely golden, but not as good as those at a few notable lunch spots.
No one lives by burgers alone. So consider the inn's exceptional clam chowder -- a precisely balanced consistency with shreds, not chunks, of clams and potatoes. It's buttery, not too creamy or pasty, and intensely flavored -- the best chowder I've had in a good while ($12).
Minestrone ($10), legume-less and with diced cubes of vegetables in a tomato-y vegetarian broth, is also good but not outrageously so. Both came in small, decorative ceramic terrines. Pretty.
Bread was warm cornmeal scones flecked with caramelized onions and perfectly paired with cool, spicy tomato butter seasoned with horseradish. I can't recall when I've been so blown away by bread service.
If only the salads kept up their end among this array of excellence. Both the "field salad" with walnut dressing and dried cranberries ($11) and "seasonal salad" with English Stilton cheese and balsamic dressing ($14, not sure what made it seasonal -- the robust cheese?), while perfectly presented, didn't hit the same high notes, unless you adore that cheese.
A plate of house-cured salmon ($22), dotted with capers and thin slices of red onion and served, curiously, without crackers, baguette toasts or some vehicle, had lovely flavor but a somewhat ragged texture.
We were back to seafood heaven with the lobster pizza ($26 for a 12- to 15-incher), a crispy, thin crust with yeast bubbles at outer edges, tender bite-sized lobster meat, fontina cheese, slivers of tomato and plenty of fresh basil. This was a perfectly balanced pie, big enough for two (or three as a starter). If you bring home leftover slices, they'll be wrapped in foil and packaged in a glossy box complete with a doily.
I mention these details so you can decide if the disconnect between the type of food (certainly not its quality) and atmosphere is a problem for you. It needn't be, but not everyone wants valet parking and formally attired staff when they go out for a hamburger.
(Continued on page 2)


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Barbers >Matthew's Barber Beauty & Nails
5051 Auburn Blvd., Sacramento, CA | Directions 9584138.661496 -121.346993
Mon 10-5 Tues-Fri 8-7 Sat 8-5
Neighborhoods: North Highlands
My family and myself have been having our haircut by James for many years. James is a pleasure to talk to when cutting your hair. His shop is has a relaxed feel with some old style charm. James will even make you look fantastic with a bowl cut. Getting your hair cut by James is an experience not to bemissed.
BEST SALON EVER!!! – This is the best salon I've ever been to, and I go A LOT:). James (the owner) is the only person I'll ever let touch my hair, or my son's. He's so friendly and nice, that I feel at home. My 9 year oldloves going there, even just to "play with James" while I get my nails done. I've sent several family members there, and now they've also sworn their loyalty. They have everything, and the people are the BEST at what they do. I'm really picky about my nails, and have never been completely happy until I met Kim. She's awesome! I will continue to go here, no matter how far I have to drive, until I don't have hair or nails left to "get done". :)
Best Barbershop in Sacramento !! – Every haircut at Matthew's Barbershop has been great. With the little vacuum on the hair clippers, I don't ever itch after a haircut. The scalp massage at the end is the best! This is a shop that cares and I'll go here forever! JAMES RULES!
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207745 Boiling Springs Rd
Woodward, OK 73801
Boiling Springs State Park, an oasis on the plains, captures some of the finest elements of nature. The park is one ... read more...
800-654-8420, 918-772-2545
17131 Park 10
Hulbert, OK 74441
Sequoyah State Park, located in eastern Oklahoma on the shores of Fort Gibson Lake, is a haven for water lovers and ... read more...
2260 S Arena Rd
McLoud, OK 74851
Wes Watkins Reservoir in McLoud is a 1,142-surface acre reservoir and is home to the North Deer Creek Recreation ... read more...
25567 US Hwy 270
Wister, OK 74966
Lake Wister State Park, located in southeast Oklahoma, is a gateway to the beautiful Ouachita National Forest. ... read more...
576-A S McGee Creek Lake Rd
Atoka, OK 74525
Located in southeast Oklahoma, McGee Creek State Park occupies the southwest edge of the Ouachita Mountain Range. ... read more...
800-892-8690, 580-623-7281
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Watonga, OK 73772
Roman Nose State Park features 11 cabins and Roman Nose Lodge features 22 guest rooms. The 22-room lodge, ... read more...
Lake Eufaula State Park Trail System
Hwy 69 & Hwy 150
Checotah, OK 74426
The Lake Eufaula State Park Trail System boasts five trails for hiking and mountain biking. Each of the trails ranges in ... read more...
Pryor Creek area
Pryor, OK 74361
Hiking and mountain biking trail for walking, jogging and bicycling. Three trailheads have been completed and are ... read more...
Tenkiller State Park Trail System
8 miles N of Gore on Hwy 100
Vian, OK 74962
The Tenkiller State Park Trail System consists of three 1 to 1.5 mile long hiking trails. Beginning at the visitor ... read more...
Tulsa, OK
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Largest Scholarship for Community College Students and Recent Alumni Offered
Contact Lisa Shields via e-mail or at 406.377.9456 for more information. DCC campus application deadline is January 5, 2011.
Dr. Doris Dwyer, Western Nevada College, will be on campus Monday, October 25 to conduct a one day visit for the Northwest Commission on Colleges and Universities (NWCCU). She will meet with students, faculty, staff, board members and administration to evaluate our implementation of the 2009 Commission recommendations.
The 11th Annual Shaping the Future Conference will be held April 9-10, 2010 at Dawson Community College. The workshop is sponsored by the Early Childhood Education Department at DCC, the Glendive Public Schools, DEAP Resource and Referral and Prairie View Special Services. The public is invited to attend and can call Brenda Stockert at 377-9463 or email [email protected] for more information.
Joyce Ayre Dawson Community College Athletic Director is proud to announce the Women's Buccaneer Volleyball team has been recognized by the National Junior College Athletic Association (NJCAA) as second in the nation for academic excellence.
DCC Women's Volleyball Head Coach, John Marble, is excited and not completely surprised by the honor. "Academics have always been a focus of this program, we believe that you can be successful in the classroom and on the court. This is a huge honor and it validates the attitudes and efforts of the players."
On December 21, 2009, Officials from Sungard Higher education met with President Jim Cargill of Dawson Community College and President Stefani Hicswa of Miles City Community College to sign agreements which will bring Banner Integrated Information System on to the community College campuses in eastern Montana. The Montana University System is underwriting the approximately 1.7 million dollar cost of this project. Currently over 800 colleges nationwide are using the system, including the University of Montana and Montana State University.
Windows Vista Essentials taught by instructor Marcia Holas will begin Tuesday October 6th. "You will use a case-based approach to explore the basics of Microsoft Windows Vista," said Marcia "then learn to organize your files and personalize your Windows environment."
This course offers hands on training needed to become a proficient Windows Vista user. The course showcases innovative new features in Windows Vista, including a sidebar that provides information at a glance and improved file organization techniques.
Brent Nelson head of Welding Technology at Dawson Community College is proud to announce that DCC Ag Mechanics student Jordan Larson of Miles City Montana will be traveling to Indianapolis in October to attend the 82nd National FFA Convention.
"Lead Out Loud" is the 2009 convention theme as 55,000 of today's FFA leaders from all 50 states gather in Indianapolis to celebrate. Members will engage in the National Days of Service and take part in interactive workshops, thrilling competitions and an action-packed career show.
The DCC Early Childhood Education Department is sponsoring three workshops. All the workshops are open to the public and available for Early Childhood training hours. All the workshops will be held in the Ullman Center, Room 105.
February 18, 6:30-9:00 p.m.-- To bond or not to bond . . . . How important is it to develop trust? Know any charming, manipulating liars? Debi Delameter from Action for Eastern Montana will give a presentation on Reactive Attachment Disorder.


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Item Number: 050B95
JOW Stampede Justin Boots are hard working boots in handsome disguise. This Men's Justin Boot features a rugged tan leather foot under a Real Tree HD camo design 11" nylon shaft. Waterproof lining. Comfort taped inside seams. Rugged dual-density midsole and performance storm welt. 1 1/4" roper heel. Square toe. Oil-, slip-, & abrasion-resistant outsole.