Disclaimer: I don't own nor did I come up with Knight Rider, Murder, She Wrote or the characters mentioned in this story. They were created by Glen A. Larson, Peter S. Fischer and are copyrighted to NBC/Universal.

Kitt, She Says

It certainly is unusual to be in this part of the country for Michael and me. Normally, our cases either bring us to the sprawling metropolitan area of some downtown center or the sparsely populated regions of the middle of nowhere. It's always places like Las Vegas, Chicago, or New York—the latter being my least favorite thanks to its horrendous road conditions. Now, that I think of it, most urbanized locations offer traffic jams, confusing street ordinances, and subpar street capacity; not that rural areas are any better. Most of the time, their local wildlife or farm animals obstruct the road, if there's a road at all, and my shocks are still trying to recover from Northfield. At any rate, it was either major cities or minor settlements in our line of work, but this place is different. Small? Yes, but large in presence and character.

Cabot Cove, a coastal community along the shores of Maine; boasts the best lobster in the state and comes with all the New England charm one would expect from visiting the historical colonial site of Revolutionary War Hero, Joshua Peabody. However, that's not what makes the place so remarkable to me. It's our reception that most caught my attention. Ordinarily, we draw unwanted attention from the inhabitants, agitate local law enforcement, and end up on the wrong side of our client's approval; and that's usually just within a few minutes of entering these small towns. Here though, everyone gave us our space, Sheriff Metzger seemed reasonable enough, and our prime witness is not only gracious but extremely helpful; not the typical fair by any means. Then again, it isn't a typical assignment.

A group, known only as the Eternal Verities, have recently been involved in a series of politically motivated murders in this region of the country and their leader, a miserable-looking fellow named Raleigh Hughes, was detained thanks mostly to the testimony of a well-known mystery author in the area, J.B. Fletcher, or Jessica as she insists on Michael calling her. She is quite an amazing person, I must say.

Firstly, she is a brilliant writer. I've indulged in some of her works thanks to requesting them from Bonnie earlier. Every paragraph appears crafted to hold the reader's attention without revealing the ever-elusive conclusion; something vitally important to the success of a good mystery novel.

Secondly, she is such a polite, down-to-earth person. I've seen my fair share of celebrities, politicians, and CEOs to know humility and kindness can be lost in the shuffle. Not so with Ms. Fletcher. Her candor is refreshing, reminding me of Maggie Flynn, and it appears she hasn't let the success go to her head. She treats others with respect and dignity, including Michael and, that alone, makes her all aces in my book, as the expression would have it.

Anyhow, the Foundation was contacted in regards to her protection as figures in the local government couldn't be trusted. Devon tasked us with keeping Ms. Fletcher safe while investigators worked on finding out who was trying to have this exceptional woman killed. I can't say I take things personally, but I am extremely invested in this task because, of course, along with safeguarding Ms. Fletcher, if we do so happen to turn on the scent of her aggressors, we have permission to pursue justice, as it were, and wouldn't you know it . . . which brings me to another one of her abilities; she is superbly observant. It's a fact that is proving to be most invaluable to our mission.

Her input on situations, people, and details has been wholly sound thus far. It's no wonder she's earned herself the reputation of being an amateur sleuth, though there seems to be nothing amateur about it. Some of her hunches rival even Michael's abilities of discernment and certainly my own. She is the most beneficial element in this whole case, thus, it's a shame I won't be able to speak with her.

It was decided I shouldn't be revealed to my fullest extent due to the logistics of this assignment. A high-profile extremist group responsible for multiple homicides, a famous author witness in mortal danger, and a small picturesque town at the heart of it all . . . it didn't exactly equal little publicity. The less about the tall, wavy-haired bodyguard with the flashy, black sports car people thought, the better off the privacy of the Foundation would be. Our ruse had been working beautifully so far, but, as I said earlier, Ms. Fletcher is superbly observant.

"Ah, this must be Kitt," she says pleasantly. Michael and I share a moment of silence. Her remark is both simple and problematic. My partner gives her a look that doesn't exactly pardon us from suspicion.

"Uh, excuse me . . ."

"Now, Michael, you said yourself, you came alone but I recall you referring to something named Kitt once or twice."

"Yeah, but how do you know it's my car?" Michael says with a mix of what I can only consider amusement and apprehension. We knew she was good . . .

"Well, I'll admit, you had me confused at first. Here's a private organization dedicated to law and government, sending out a solo agent with a seemingly endless supply of criminal justice resources and yet without any visible support I could see. Considering how dangerous this situation is, I thought, perhaps, Kitt might have been some kind of code word or signal to a hidden partner or team. But then I remembered something you mentioned earlier; the car was special."

. . . but we didn't know she was this good.

I can tell Michael is impressed, or possibly upset. Those two sets of vitals tend to overlap each other. Either way, we listen as she continues.

"Of course, at the time, I took it to mean the car was special to you; just as you wanted me to, I suspect. But when you told me Flag was a subdivision of Knight Industries, a leader in technological advances . . ."

"It didn't take long for you to put two and two together," Michael supplies with an impulsive smile. Yes, he's impressed which seems to be the theme around Ms. Fletcher. She smiles good-naturedly too.

"Right. It also occurred to me Kitt may have been an acronym for something since you use the abbreviation Flag so often. I wasn't sure, but when Sherriff Metzger told me what he saw this car do; I mean deflecting bullets, driving itself, and leaping into the air; well, it only confirms my suspicions. I know this," she says while gesturing in my direction, "has to be Kitt."

"What amazingly astute deductive skills you possess, Ms. Fletcher," I say before realizing my slip with dismay, "Uh-oh."

"My Goodness! It talks?" she says with an even bigger smile and a chuckle.

"Yeah. Sometimes, to a fault," Michael says critically in my direction. I can't believe I blew our cover like that.

"Sorry, Michael."

He shakes his head and I worry, but then he grins and I relax.

"It's alright, Kitt. I don't think we ever stood a chance of keeping this a secret for long. Jessica, here's, one sharp lady."

"Yes, it certainly would have taken us more time to locate Grayson without you, Ms. Fletcher," I say with more confidence. She looks to Michael who nods before gesturing for them to get inside my cabin.

"Why, thank you, Kitt, and, please, just call me Jessica. It's not every day I get to meet someone as remarkable as yourself," she says while taking a seat on the passenger side. I have a familiar sense of satisfaction. Michael calls it pride. I like to think of it as self-esteem.

"I'd be happy to share more about myself if you have the time, Jessica. Like, for instance, how you were correct about Kitt being an abbreviation. It stands for the Knight Industries Two Thousand, K-I-T-T, and the ability to deflect bullets is thanks to my molecularly bonded shell. I'm actually able to . . ."

"Now you've done it. He'll rattle on like that for hours if you let him," Michael interrupts and quite rudely, I might add. He shuts the driver's side door and gives my voice modulator a pensive look as well he should. He always takes a jab, as it were, at my expositions; like he's never rattled on about football or rock 'n' roll before. Nevertheless, I must concede now isn't the time to share all one hundred plus things I'm capable of. However, Jessica is fairly gracious about it.

"I'd love to hear more, Kitt, but perhaps after our business with the Eternal Verities is resolved. Besides, I'm sure I'll get to witness most of your capabilities first hand now."

"Thank you, Jessica. You could learn a lot from her, Michael," I say boldly, knowing well enough how my partner would take it. He looks heavenward before starting up the engine and moving us out.

"Although, I'd rather skip any gunfights if that's possible," Jessica says with humor. Michael laughs and I can't help but feel comfortable. She is so personable.

"I do try my best to keep Michael out of trouble, but it tends to follow him around, relentlessly," I say good-naturedly. He gives me a snarky smirk, but there's a subtle difference.

"Yeah, well, keep your scanners peeled because we're the ones going to be doing the following today," he says plainly. I know it's time to work.

"Of course, Michael."

There are a few moments of exchange between Michael and myself as we work out a plan and merge into traffic. It's a few miles into the trip when Michael turns towards Jessica and notices the thoughtful look on her face I've been aware of since the last stop sign.

"What is it?" he asks.

"It just occurred to me, my first assumption was closer to the truth; Kitt is the hidden partner," she says matter of fact. I see a bright smile come across Michael's face.

"Right again. He's also the best partner I've ever had."

It is, by far, the single greatest introduction I could ever have.

"Thank you, Michael."


Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body. Proverbs 16:24