It was like the start of a spy movie. An elderly couple sitting in their living room about 9:00 p.m., reading, when a small plane appears out of nowhere and swoops low over their home, its errant path visible through the patio windows.

“Did you see that?” the woman shrieks. “I thought it was going to crash into the house”

“See what?” the man says.

“The plane. The plane. Look, there is goes again over the Dennys’ house. What’s going on?”

The couple lives in a gated retirement community with others of their own kind. Many of the residents have already gone to bed. The man stretches and yawns and leans over to give the woman a kiss.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’m going to call it a day,” he says, then plods off down the hallway, leaving her alone.

She opens the front door and scurries outside to watch the plane as it swoops and dips, then heads off toward a cumulus cloud Illuminated by intermittent streaks of lightening.

She reaches for her cell phone and calls security.

“Uh, there seems to be a plane buzzing our neighborhood,” she says.

“Yes ma’am. We’re watching it,” the guard responds.

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“We sure don’t,” he says.

She hangs up. Not very comforting. Why don’t they call the airport or the sheriff? Maybe they’ll know if someone has stolen a small plane and gone for a joy ride. What if he or she is on a suicide mission, prepared to take out a bunch of senior citizens? What will happen when the pilot runs out of fuel?

Her imagination has gone wild as it frequently does. She is, after all, only a thirty-minute drive from the small airport where the 9-11 pilots learned to fly on their mission to bring down America. Anything is possible.

She calls the Sarasota police department. She envisions a policeman standing with her on the street looking helplessly as the plane goes wild. The ravings of an old woman can’t be considered an emergency but there is no other number for her to reach to even raise the question: Do you know anything about a plane flying low over Sarasota?

Suddenly, she remembers the summer afternoons when she lived on the island and a helicopter would zoom dangerously low over her cottage, scaring the birds out of the live oak trees while it sprayed for mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes! She is triumphant in her own mind. She calls security once more.

“It’s me again. I think they’re spraying for mosquitoes.”

There is silence on the other end. “I doubt that, but we’re keeping an eye on the plane. It’s still circling.” Don’t call us again is the non-verbal message she receives.

Leaning on her instincts as a former reporter, she types in Sarasota County Mosquito Control and sees the following: “Tuesday, August 13, 2024: Aerial (plane) treatment is scheduled starting at 9 p.m. . .

Eureka! She rushes to the bedroom, wakes up her sleeping partner, and announces that her curiosity has triumphed once more.

“I knew you’d figure it out,” he grumbles as he returns to la la land.

She ponders calling security for a third time and gives it a pass.

They think I’m a nutcase. Let them remain uninformed.

The mystery of the secret plane’s mission is solved. Case closed for now.