Call the FBI!

I'm in Indiana. Flew here today.



So, why am I in Indiana now when I'm leaving on tour in the radically quick blink of an eye and will be here in the crazy van next month?



Because of the FBI guy.



Regular readers will remember him. The one stuck sitting beside me on a flight to Arkansas? The one who thought I was psycho? (


Well, it turns out his daughter took my e-mail (which I wrote after the FBI guy's nice wife sent me a nice letter of thanks for the box of books this psycho author sent) to her school's librarian and the school's librarian (who happened to already have something like 150 copies of Sammy Keyes and the Hotel Thief for class sets), started looking into having me do a school visit.



And here I am in Indiana.



I wonder if the FBI guy will show up. Maybe I should do something clandestine. Or go missing! Yeah, what if I went missing (but still knew where I was, so it would be okay, okay?) and they sent out the (da-da-da-da) FBI!



Clearly, I need to get some rest before tomorrow, so I will keep this short and say, Goodnight from Indiana!



(And from me, too!)