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


The Fuschia Falcon

Those of you still checking in from time to time may have noticed a slight lag in service. Not to make excuses, but this is 'cause Franklin and I have been making headway on that Undercover Case we vaguely referenced a little while ago. Now that the op is winding down, we can share a little: We called it the Mystery of the Missing Money, and we posed as a pair of birds on the nut and on the dole, trying to find paying gigs. Due to witness protection and other legal mumbo-jumbo, we can't give you any more detail than that.

However, back to the babe who came in while Franklin and I were wrapping up the Firebug Case: did I mention the gams on her? Quite a dame she was. We lead her into the office and made her comfortable with a cup of coffee. She asked if we knew who she was, and we admitted she had the bulge on us there.

"Alice deMontesque," she introduced herself with a slight drawl.
I asked how we could help her on such a fine day.
"There was a robbery at my home last night, and something of incredible value was taken."
Franklin chimed in, "Why didn't you go to the Flatfoots with it?"
"Let's just say that we like our privacy at home."
"And what was taken?" I added.
"The Fuschia Falcon, a rare diamond from Russia."
Franklin and I looked at each other for a moment.
Hopeful, the dame asked, "So you've heard of it?"
"Nope, not at all, ma'am." Franklin replied.
"What's so special about it?" I threw in, pretending to know about jewels.
"It's known for its perfect clarity and a slight pink imperfection. It's embedded in a bird-shaped pendant."
"Where was it when you lost it?" Franklin continued.
She seemed a little puzzled, "I didn't lose it, it was stolen from our house over by Jamaica Pond."
I copied down the address.
"So, why pick us of all the dicks you could ask?" was Franklin's final question.
"I saw your work on the Arson case and knew you were the guys to see."

We left her in the office and chinned outside for a minute. Franklin had one problem, he needed a couple of weeks for a test, getting a permit for his bean-shooter. We need the case, and we needed a win, so I agreed to go it alone. It put me behind the eight ball, but there were men who'd climb Everest naked for a dish like her; I just had to find a necklace.


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