I always pictured myself driving a van instead of a truck.
The cover pictured a character looking like Carnac the Magnificent from the old Johnny Carson TV show.
I pictured her sitting at a desk, perhaps someone else listening in.
"That's what deputies and under-sheriffs are for," he answered with a grimace and then pictured sending snippy Miss Larkin burrowing underground like a weasel and rolling a stone against the entrance.
But then he pictured his beautiful wife, her unfailingly sweet and kind nature, and refused his mind's picture of her kneeling there in the snow, calmly sawing Shipton's rope until it parted, plunging him to his bloody death.