What's Going On Here?

The noir adventures of Franklin and Turner, two former English Majors who teamed up to pool their knowledge of TV crime dramas to solve Boston's toughest cases.

How Did this Happen?: About this Blog
Current Case: #002 The Fuschia Falcon


Real Men Never Say Sorry

A strange week it has been. The case has definitely not gone cold, yet, and the trail is far from gone. Just between a couple of side-projects and some unlucky breaks, I for one haven't had a chance to sit down like a real dick and get some legwork done. Tough breaks? How does locking myself out of the apartment and a broken computer grab ya?

Wednesday morning, I was at my desk job by the time I realized the keys weren't in my pocket where I usually keep them. Their location was a mystery, but I am a professional. A little thinking lead me to remember that they were on the mantel at the office. Unfortunately, Tiny "Bling" is out of town and Dreads Mahoney had already legged it to work. When I got to the office, the doors were all locked, and I couldn't make an effective lock pick out of what was in my bag. I pondered grabbing a ladder and climbing up to the deck front office. But in the end decided to go visit Nervous Mahoney in her new place until Dreads got back.

The following night, last night, I had planned to work on what police head quacks call "psychological profile". A lot of people think the whole science is a load, but with arson cases most physical evidence is destroyed by either the crime or by fire crews. Anyway, that had been the plan, and perhaps some filing that needs to be done. Instead, while putting in an update, the Office Computer stopped working, so I ran down to a contact of mine at the Genius Bar. While I was out, ran into some friends from out of town. Did some light research, but nothing yet substantial.

All of this has nothing to do with the case. Maybe I'm making excuses, maybe this whole entry was a trip for biscuits. Either way, real men don't apologize.


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