"Turn around and place your hands on the filing cabinet," the detective said it in such a matter-of-fact way that I thought he was joking.  Only moments before I was searching for a file to look up a buy date for a customer having problems getting their warranty to cover the expense of a fuel pump.  The two guys in suits and one in uniform walked into the dealership, but I hardly paid attention until they approached me.

"Wh, wh, why?  What's the matter?"  I barely got the words out before I was spun around and mashed into the cabinets.

"You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.  You have the right to remain silent..."

I didn't hear the rest.  As they led me outside and to the back seat of their car, my mind raced to simply fathom a guess as to why they would think it was me.  Conspiracy?  The only conspiring I've done recently is to agree to stretch a few financial truths with a second-rate tax service.  Murder?  Was conspiring what I think it is?  

The detective riding shotgun radioed-in saying they had me enroute.  Hell, I thought, you got me encuffs, enshock, and enroute.

"Excuse me, sir.  Do you think I wanted someone dead or that I was killing someone for someone else?  I'm just trying to understand this conspiracy thing."

The two didn't answer and though I tried to rephrase it five or six times they still didn't respond.  It was like I wasn't even there and that's when I thought I might wake up.  Oh, honey what a dream I just had.  You wouldn't believe it.  Suddenly, there was a familiar beeping sound and I waited for my eyes to open, but then I realized it was my cell phone sitting in a plastic bag on the front floor of the car.  ****.  I'm awake and this is real.

"When can I call my wife?"

"Soon," said the driver.

"Oh good.  And one more thing - am I under arrest for killing somebody or for getting someone to do it or did I do it for someone else?"

No answer. Great. I wonder if my customer will get their fuel pump covered by the warranty?  God, I'm such a people pleaser.