The Baslicato

 The BASLICATO

                                       Time After Time   Book Three

When Dr. Brook Wilson agreed to take on celebrity Italian race car driver, Jason Maxwell, known as ‘The Baslicato,’ as her head injury patient, little did she realize that her relationship with him would turn her calm, pleasant, productive, well-ordered life upside down.  All her conscience efforts to get exactly where she wanted to be in her life would be tossed up in the air, including her longtime boyfriend Dr. Garrett MacEgan, Chief of Staff of Vistaverde’s West Memorial Hospital.   She would find herself living in another country, remembering a past life and a passed love, and running from danger at every turn.  Beautiful, romantic southerm Italy, fast cars, big explosions, and crazy exes; this story is murder!

Episode Twenty-Eight Back in the Tower

Episode Twenty-Eight   Back in the Tower

    “And we were together every day after that.  I met you every night after work at the trucking company and walked you to the coffee shop, where we had dinner together.  Or sometimes I cooked for you and brought you back to my place.  And I did my best in impress you.  I wanted you to think I was outstanding husband material: the nicest, kindest, most loving man you ever met.  We spent the whole weekend together. You liked my French toast and my scrambled eggs.  And you were amazed that I know how to wield an iron! 

    I listened to you talk about your hopes and dreams for the future.  We cuddled up and looked at magazines, pictures of clothes, jewelry, house stuff, and I asked you what you liked.  And I listened, very carefully.  And I told you that someday I would buy you all those things you liked.  And you said you didn’t care about all that stuff, you just wanted to be with me, and maybe live by the seashore.  I enjoyed your beautiful smile, I loved to listen to that adorable laugh.  I…” 

    “Jaks, uh, let’s get back to you found me and watched me.  Why not simply kill me instead of cheap-date me?”  He giggled.

    “Sam! I mean Princess, there was very little to do in Demby.  No theater, no concerts, no night clubs, no cinema, no place to take a date.  Dinner, coffee, and a new magazine, that wasn’t such a bad date.  Sometimes I had to travel out of town to find a new magazine.  I had to take the bus to Dayton to find the one we used to design our kitchen.”

    “The kitchen.  Our kitchen?  No wonder I loved everything about it.”

    “I told you that you planned it all, remember?”

    “Back to… why not simply kill me?” 

    “The Galt High Council told me you were a nasty bitch of a woman, a foul-mouthed, screeching, spoiled rotten Princess brat, who cared for no one or nothing, only clothes and adornments, fine wine, and chocolate, treating your servants harshly.”

    “That’s why they want me dead?  Because they think I’m a mean spoiled rotten nasty girl?”

    “No.  The real reason, naturally, was to cause your father inconsolable grief and weaken him, so we could attack and kill him.  But they TOLD me it was because you were a nasty person.  But when I watched you, well, that’s not what I saw.  You were quiet.  You were kind to everyone.  You were pleasant.  Sweet.  You called no attention to yourself.  You were frugal.  And your apartment…”

    “You were inside my apartment?  But my landlord didn’t allow men in my apartment!  How did you get in?  You broke in?”

    “Yes, it was months before we got to know each other.  One day, after you went to work, I, uh, made sure no one saw me and I carefully let myself into your tiny apartment.  Not the residence of a spoiled rotten narcissistic little bitch.  It was modest, neat, and clean.  And very well organized.  It was lovely.  Not a women spoiled by years of servants.  Nothing flashy or glitzy in your closet.”

    “Wait.  You also went through my closet?” she looked startled.

    “Yes, and your drawers.”

    She shook her head, wanting to scream, but not wanting to give her father a reason to step in and take over, and hurt him.

    “And did you find what you were looking for when you went through all my personal belongings in my drawers?”  She raised an eyebrow at him.  The tiniest smile appeared on his face momentarily.

Bentley Square

BENTLEY SQUARE

Time After Time   Book Four

Strangers see each other at the train station every day; she, a young, beautiful, wealthy businesswoman, and he, a quiet, down on his luck office manager for an ad agency.  They have nothing in common.  And yet they are hypnotically drawn to each other with an undeniable magnetism and a deep sense of familiarity.  They smile, they nod, and they move on.  And then a chance meeting at a coffee shop and a mutual desire to save an old building steeped in city history bring the two of them together, putting them both on a collision course with danger.  This is the story of Rebecca Robbins, privileged daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country, and Mark Ramsey, a guarded man shrouded in dark mystery and always hiding in the shadows from death squads, shady characters, and any kind of publicity.  Backroom business deals, local hoodlums, changes of identity, kidnapping, and foreign intrigue cause heartbreak for the young lovers.        

LOVE THIS BOOK

"The Daily Book of Art"  is an informative and entertaining book that is meant to be read over the period of a year.  It is full of short readings and lessons covering a range of subjects from the psychology of color to aesthetic philosophy to the debate on whether animals really can paint.

There are 10 discussion categories;  Art 101,  Philosophy of Art,  Art Through the Ages, Profiles in Art,  A Picture's Worth 200 Words,  Art From the Inside Out,  Art From Around the World, Artistic Oddities,  Unexpected Art,  and Step-By-Step Exercises.

If you love art but don't have a lot of time for it, this is the book for you.  The daily snippets will enlighten and delight.  And it comes with a ribbon bookmark so you can keep track of your reading.  I liked it so much I devoured more than one reading a day and finished it in 3 weeks!!

Episode Twenty-Seven First Date

Episode Twenty-Seven   First Date

    The next evening at six o’clock before closing, Molly checked her look in the mirror.  She squirted on some cologne and put on some lipgloss.  She locked up and went outside.  A smiling Tarek was waiting for her at the bottom on the steps.  He waved.

    “Hello, Beautiful!  Two questions,” he shouted up from where he stood.  “One:  Have you changed your mind about having dinner with me?”

    “No,” she smiled.  She was actually looking forward to it all day.

    “Good!  Question number two:  Are you hungry?”  She nodded and ran down the steps.

    “Then, let’s go,” he reached for her hand.  “Today’s special’s at the coffee shop are grilled chicken breast, house salad, and broccoli.  Or tuna noddle casserole.  Or turkey club sandwich with potato chips and pickle.  Or the famous, or should I say infamous, mystery meatloaf.  Peanut butter pie for dessert.  I stopped and read the sign on my way over to get you.”

    “I’m hungry, it all sounds good, even the mystery meatloaf.”

    “Oh, you brave girl!”

    They walked into the coffee shop and sat in a booth on one of the windowed walls.  They ordered coffee while looking at the menu.  He reached across the table for her hand.

    “So, tell me, Molly,” he said, setting his plan in motion, “where do you hope to be in five years?”

    “Out of this armpit of the nation, that’s for sure.”

    “Okay.  How about in one year?”

    “Now that’s much harder to answer.  I need to save a lot more money in order to make the jump out of here.”

“Well, it’s never too early to plan, now is it?  Where would you like to go?”

    “Someplace warm and sunny.  Florida.  The Gulf of Mexico coast.  Somewhere around Clearwater.  It’s my favorite place on the planet.  Ever been there?”

    “Been to Florida.  Orlando, Miami, Jupiter.  But not Clearwater.”

    “It’s so gorgeous down there!  My parents and I went on vacation there when I was still in high school.  It was wonderful.  That was before they, uh, passed away.”

    “Oh, I’m so sorry, Molly.  What happened?”

    “Auto accident on the freeway.  They tell me they died instantly.  According to the paperwork I have, it was eight years ago.  But I just can’t believe it’s been that long ago.  It still hurts.”  She looked out the window.

    “I’m sorry, Honey,” he squeezed her hand.  “Do you have any other family?”

    “No.”  Soon the waitress came to take their order. 

    “I’d like the grilled chicken breast with broccoli, Italian dressing on the salad,” she said.

    “I’ll have the same,” he added.  The waitress left.

    “So, Tarek, tell me, where do you see yourself in five years?”

    “I see myself with a job where I am my own boss, make my own hours, where I make a great deal of money.  I see myself married to a very kind and beautiful woman who loves me.  Very much,” he smiled at her shyly.  “And I don’t want to go back home, either.”

    “Well, then, do you like Florida?” she teased.

    “Yes, I do!”

    “Then Clearwater it is.”

    “Okay, we’ve got the place.  Now, do you prefer a house or apartment?”

    “Condo.  On the beach.”

And the Lucky Winner is...

And the Lucky Winner is...

    We am very happy to announce the winner of 
Vision and Verse's One Month Anniversary Give-Away.
First we would like to thank all of you who took the time to comment positively on our new blog.  We're happy to see so many of our Facebook friends here supporting us.
    Parker and I are planning another special giveaway surprise in two weeks, so check back with us for details when you're getting your CHARMING DECEPTION daily episode.
    And the lucky winner of a digital copy of BELTERRA, my bestselling romantic sci-fi adventure of 2012 is

                        Rocketwoofter1

    Rocket, if you would please send me your email address at visionandverse@gmail.com, I will send you your prize.  Remember you don't need a kindle to download and read kindle books from amazon.com as they can be read on your computer or phone with the free app provided to you on the right side halfway down the page at 
            Carol Ann Kauffman@amazon.com 
                                                         Hugs,
                                                         Carol

FROM THE ARCHIVES

                                          "FLORA BY THE STREAM"  by Parker Kaufman, 1999


"FLORA"  (above) was one of my first endeavors in creating Art Cards.  It came about from shopping for a card for a friend and the frustration with the selection of generic, "same-old-same-old" offerings on the market.  I wanted something that spoke my feelings, in volumes, without so much as a single printed word on it's face.  It had to be the product of my heart, mind, and hands.

Each one was roughly 6 x 9 inches in size, made solely of colored cardstock, computer generated images, and embellished with colored pencil and ink.  I continue to make these cards today, adding printed papers, textured cardstock, and layering certain aspects to give a more dimensional quality to them.

More of my art cards and works for framing can be seen on my website www.parkerkaufman.net.

CUBISM

In the early 20th century, Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso instrumented the avant-garde art movement known as "CUBISM".

By definition, the Cubist artist analyzes an object, breaks it down, then abstractly reassembles it.  In this way, the artist can depict the subject from multiple viewpoints as opposed to a single one, thereby representing the subject in greater context.

Cubism is considered to be the most influential evolution in art of this period.  It is also said to have revolutionized the European art scene and inspired movements in architecture, literature, and music as well.

An extraordinary example of this art style is pictured above in a painting by Pablo Picasso titled, "Bust of a Woman in a Yellow Hat".

Episode Twenty-Six Describing Demby

Episode Twenty-Six    Describing Demby

     “And you came to Demby?  I’m rethinking our coffee date tomorrow, Big T!  Now there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re a little crazy.  The entire population of Demby borders on comatose.  This place was the inspiration for Stepford.  There is nothing going on here at all to investigate.  There is no crime.  There is no jail or no local court.  No divorces, no cheating spouses, no strip clubs.  No speeding, no hit-skips, and no moving violations.  The police department stopped buying bullets long ago because they got rusty, the bullets not the cops.  They’ve all been issued flyswatters instead.  The high school principal says the students are too unmotivated to want to cheat.  All the drunks walk home quietly in an orderly fashion from ‘The Bleak Horizon,’ the only bar in town, and by the way, the name of the bar here says it all.  The only mystery in town is what’s in the coffee shop meatloaf. 

    There’s one legal office, and city lawyer is never busy.  He’s hardly ever out of the office.  I know, because he’s my landlord.  He spends all his time making up more stupid, ridiculous rules for his rental apartments.  No loud music.  No jumping, hopping, dancing, or running in the apartment.  No singing in the apartment.  No parties.  No heavy houseplants.  No space heaters.  No filling the bathtub over half full.  No members of the opposite sex in the apartment.  No pets.  No candles.  No overnight guests of either sex.  No noise of any kind after eleven.  And I practically have to gift-wrap my garbage before bringing it out to the garbage can, complete with my name and date.” 

    “Molly!  That’s all ridiculous.  You should move!” he advised.

     “I can’t!” she giggled.  “The same slumlord lawyer owns all seven of the only available apartments for rent in this armpit of the nation, so it wouldn’t help me.

    “If it’s so dull and grey and boring and restrictive here, why do you stay here?”

    “I stay because of my job.  I love what I do.  It’s hard to describe.  It’s a giant, all-encompassing, multi-level mental jigsaw puzzle.  Distances times miles per hour.  Gas prices times speed limits.  Federal regulations.  State regulations.  Conditions of the road minus conditions of the vehicle.  Traffic patterns by the day of the week.  And when I roll all the variables in place, I get lost in it and don’t come up for air until I’ve come up with the best possible solution.  Nobody bothers me, my days fly by, and I don’t want to go back home.”

    “There are many, many other options besides here and back home, Molly,” he laughed.

    “Well, we’ll have to talk about those other options tomorrow, because here we are.  This is it.  I live here.  Upstairs apartment.  Thank you for walking me home.”

    “It was my pleasure.  I’ll wait here until you get upstairs and safely locked in for the night.”

     “Good night, Tarek,” she smiled at him.  He kissed her hand.

     “Good night, Molly.  Until tomorrow.  Don’t forget, okay?”

    She bounced up the steps and unlocked the door.  She turned and waved to him standing below, looking up at her like she was the sun in his universe.

    “I won’t,” she said.  He waved back.  She went in and locked the door.  A light went on in the only window in the apartment, on the side of the building.  He stood there for a moment, just looking up at her lit window.  It was a small window above the kitchen sink.  He knew because he had been inside her apartment.  One day a few months ago, he waited until she left for work in the morning before he carefully and quietly let himself into her apartment and systematically went through all of her belongings.  He was looking for clues, clues to her personality, as to what kind of person she was, and who she really was.  Was she really the cruel, vain Princess Isabella of Robesson?  

Episode Twenty-Five A Private Investigator

Episode Twenty-Five   A Private Investigator

    “Can I, uh, buy you a coffee, Molly?  Maybe we could sit and talk a bit?”  He motioned to the coffee shop across the street.

    “Well, that sounds really nice, but I’m exhausted.  It’s late, after nine.  It’s been a long day for me.  I’ve been working since nine this morning.  Maybe some other time, okay, Tarek?”  She turned and walked away from him.

    “Okay.  How about… tomorrow?  Maybe you won’t be so tired tomorrow.”  He caught up with her.

    “Tomorrow night, I only work until six.”

    “Good.  Six o’clock tomorrow night then?  Just coffee and conversation.  I’m harmless.  Really I am.”

    “Isn’t that what all axe-murderers say to their poor, unsuspecting victims?” She smiled.  For some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him.

    “I wouldn’t know what axe-murderers say.  But, look, I have no axe!”  He held his hands up and turned around.  “See, no axe hidden down my pant leg!”  He bent one leg, then the other.  “No axe, no sword, no machete, no weapon of any kind.  The coffee shop is very public, with windows on three sides.  You can get up and walk away from me whenever you want, if you feel threatened or uncomfortable.  But, you won’t, I promise you.  Say okay?”  He had the sweetest smile.

    “Well, okay,” she giggled.  “But I warn you, I might be hungry!”

    “Fine.  Coffee, conversation, and whatever you want on the menu.  Anything.  Everything.  Now, does that sound better?”

    “Yes.  Better,” she nodded.  “So, where have you been hiding?  I swear I’ve never seen you at the grocery store or in the coffee shop.  Or anywhere.”

    “Oh, I’ve been here.  I just blend in with the background, I guess.  Can I walk you home?  See to it you get home safely?”

    “All right.  I live a few blocks from the corner here.”

    “So, how long have you been in Demby, Molly?”

    “I’ve been here about a year and a half now.  I came here for the job.  I work at Trafford Trucking.”

    “Are you from around here?”

    “Well, not too far from here.  Northeast part of Ohio.  I’m from Fulton Valley.  How about you?  Where are you from, and I’m sure you’re not from around here!”

    “You’re right.  I’m from a small town in Virginia called Rosemont Falls.  It’s a beautiful place, with great weather, lots of history, and local color.  But there are no jobs there either.  Of course, I’m not having much luck finding work here either.”

    “You came to OHIO to look for a job?”  She laughed hysterically.  “You are either extremely optimistic or crazy.  I vote crazy.  Do you have any idea how bad things are here?  You have to wait for somebody to die off just to get a crack at his job.  The kids get out of school and go away to college and never ever come back, even if they drop out, flunk out, whatever.  Not even for a visit.  And I can’t say I blame them.  This place is dull and stagnant.  You need to go to some big city, not this little grey, dusty, bump in the road.  You need to go to Columbus or Dayton.  Or Cincinnati on the river, ah, beautiful!  What kind of work are you looking for, Tarek?”

    “I’m a private investigator.”