The weekend was beginning to fade away -- thank God!

I was at the office-- a haven from the tension at home-- and Janeanne, my assistant, was a welcome face. She brought in some danish and we dug in.

"How was your weekend?" she said.

"Don't ask," I said.

"That good, huh? Well, I had my boyfriend's parents with us all weekend. We got trapped in the Jaw's ride at Universal Studios and were eaten by that damn fish seventy-six times before they got us out."

Gee, that sounded just like my weekend.

"Oh, I forgot. Rebecca dropped off something for you." She went out to the front desk. Something from Rebecca? Hmmmm.... I shoveled the last of the cheese danish into my mouth, checked my schedule for the day-- pretty open, lucky me.

Janeanne came back with a box. Gift wrapped with a card that said, "Thought you might like to see me in my work clothes."

I opened the box and pulled a large, stunningly framed photograph of Diana Rigg as Emma Peel from "The Avengers." It was signed by Diana Rigg, and it read, "Dearest Eric! Let's get into some trouble! Love, Diana."

Where did Rebecca get this? How did she know Diana Rigg?

Janeanne looked puzzled, "Who's the babe in the cat-suit?"

I was reminded that Janeanne was born after the show was cancelled.

*****

I called Rebecca and left the following message:

"All right, Miss Peel! This is your partner in crime! We've got a little job to do," I said with my best British accent. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it -- oh, wait, that's Mission/Impossible... just come for lunch today. How did you know I love The Avengers? -- Thank you so much! It's going right on my desk, forever! Call me."

Janeanne came to clear away the breakfast.

"So, people are talking, Eric... just thought you should know."

I smiled, "They are? What are they saying?"

"They're jealous as hell. You and the Boss's Daughter.. that's what they're saying. But here's an interesting question, how does Andrew McKinley factor into this?"

I stopped. "Who?"

"Uh, Andrew? Uh, the guy you live with?"

"My roommate?"

"Uh, yeah-right. Your 'roommate'....whatever. You're on one train, he's on the other -- only problem is, there's one track and you're facing each other. At about a hundred miles an hour."

She smiled and left.

Jesus, I thought. She knows.