(Q).
It was a hot summer afternoon; I think I was 12. It was too hot too cook in the kitchen, so Mom decided we'd grill hot dogs & stuff outside. But we needed some things so Dad was elected to go to the grocery store. This turned out to be a big production; Dad was trying remember what all was needed without writing a list, and Mom kept adding things even as he was trying to leave. Finally, he got in the car and drove off. Mom & I had just turned around and sat down at our picnic table when all of sudden here was Dad pulling back into the driveway. He'd apparently just driven around the block & came right back. Mom & I looked at each other and smirked- she was thinking the same thing I was: "what'd he forget this time?" But then Dad got out of the car.. and on his face was the look. In my young life, I'd never seen that look before, but it chilled me to the core and I just knew something bad was coming. Mom knew it too; the smirk quickly left her face as Dad came over and said.. "Mom.. I hope I heard this wrong.. but on the radio they said a woman drowned at the lake.. I hope I'm wrong, I barely caught the name, but I think they said it was your sister.." The cookout was forgotten; we went inside & started making phone calls, and unfortunately it was indeed my aunt. She & her family had gone swimming to cool off; apparently she'd gotten a cramp or something and gone under while nobody was looking, and by the time she was missed it was too late. To this day, my Mom is miffed at some family members that we had to find out that way (she was pretty close to this sister so she feels someone should've called before it got on the news) but as for me, I will never forget that look on my Dad's face. Question: What kind of table were the child and mother sitting at? Options: - Dining room table - Picnic table - Kitchen table - not enough information === The correct answer is
(A).
Picnic table

(Q).
I was one of the best fingerprint examiners in the world. I could do things the FBI thought impossible. I could memorize fingerprints. The nearby agencies, including local offices of federal agencies that had their own labs, came to me for help. One day in a trial a new-hatched defence attorney tried to make me seem neglectful because I hadn't sent the prints from the crime scene to the FBI for verification. The FBI will not look at prints that have already been identified locally. I tried to get that across to him. Finally I said, "Sir, you don't understand. I don't ask the FBI for help. The FBI asks me for help." The courtroom went dead silent. The lawyer choked a bit and looked frantically at the judge, who knew me quite well. The judge slowly nodded. The lawyer choked a few more times, said, "No further questions," and returned to his seat. I was the only person in the five-state area in which the silver burglar was hitting who got him on fingerprint evidence. He never left fingerprint evidence . . . except when he did. Every other police agency quit looking, because his MO was unmistakable. We didn't. A detective got prints from a bamboo tree he had used to climb in a window, and I got several prints from items he had handled inside the house. After the trial he was being led back to the jail and I was walking down the hall. He stopped and said, "I want to talk to that lady." The bailiff told him he couldn't talk to the witness, but I said I wanted to hear what he had to say. He said, "Lady, you're the smartest cop I ever saw, and I hope to God I never see you again." I think that was the best compliment I ever got. I have other accomplishments. But I consider my police work the most important. Question: The silver burglar talked to the finger print examiner: Options: - not enough information - after the trial - during the trial - before the trial === The correct answer is
(A).
after the trial

(Q).
PAUL Reynolds doodled idly on a bar napkin as he sipped at his margarita. All around him tourists of every size and shape were donning paper pirate hats and plastic eye patches. They were part of a relatively new Key West tradition called the Booty Hunt - a glorified bar crawl where participants followed a "treasure map" that led them from bar to bar, with occasional stops in private homes, and where the chief treasure to be found was the pleasure of being surrounded by fellow drunks and saying "Arrrr" a lot. Paul had participated a few times himself and was kind of embarrassed at how much fun it was. His pen drew a rough sketch of the crowd, although in his version they were actual pirates, in full dress with real swords and pistols and parrots. He took another sip and glanced around the bar, wondering where his drinking companion had gotten to. It was still early - just an hour or so after sunset, and Crooked Pete's was only half full. Located on Simonton, a block off the tourist-choked sidewalks of Duval Street, the bar hadn't hit its stride for the evening yet. The real crowd and the regulars would come later, once they had gotten a bite to eat and were ready for some serious, cheap drinking. He saw his friend Sandee emerge - finally - from the bathroom, smiling at Paul from across the bar while maneuvering through the gaggle of barhopping buccaneers. Thick, cascading black curls complemented Sandee's black sequined mini-dress that clung to every slim curve and emphasized shapely breasts. Sandee winked at one of the tourists, blowing the man a kiss as he ogled in naked admiration. "Did you miss me?" Sandee asked, sitting down beside Paul. "Of course," Paul replied, sliding another margarita to Sandee. "But your drink missed you more. All your ice is melting." "Oh, the poor darlings," Sandee cooed, licking the salt on the rim suggestively before taking a long swallow that emptied a third of the contents. Question: Sandee winked at a tourist: Options: - not enough information - after the bar hit its stride - after emerging from the bathroom - after the ice melted in her drink === The correct answer is
(A).
after emerging from the bathroom