Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Senior Citizens Seek Justice

What do you do when you've reached what are supposed be your retirement... your golden years...
and you find out you've been ripped off by your own financial advisor?
I suppose you never know until it happens to you.

As money becomes  a more scarse commodity, people who've had theirs stolen really just want it back.
By the time the rip-off is done and discovered, the money is spent.
A criminal judgment doesn't bring the money back.
And a civil  judgment against someone is not a guarantee for payment of that judgement.

The senior citizens in the article I am linking you to chose a difference path to recovering their money.
The four, aged between 61 and 80, kidnapped their financial advisor and held him hostage for four days.
Fascinating read. Just click the link below.
Too bad the good guys lost this round.

Four Old Age Pensioners Kidnap Financial Advisor

Monday, March 22, 2010

In Pursit of A P.I. License?

Are you thinking of becoming a PI?
Each state has it's own laws about licensing.
That's where you start if you're thinking of starting this new career.
It's one thing to meet the requirements, take the tests, pass the pre-reqs.
It's another thing to learn how find business, keep it and then collect the money you have earned for doing it...whether you find what your client wants or not.

If you're thinking about this line of work, start here, via the link at the end of this post.
At Pursuit Magazine.
I consider L. Scott Harrell  not  only one of the best in the business. He knows more about the business than most PI's put together. And now I have the privilege of being his friend and sharing his knoweldge with you,

Read Scott's latest post on Pursuit Magazine. P.I. licenses being required in Missouri.
Then  explore the site further  to learn about specific licensing requirements  in your state.
As far as I'm concerned, if the PI you're working with isn't licensed, fire him or her.
There are more than enough good, ethical and legal PI's to go around.
Start here.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

How To Catch A Liar

Joe McKinney is a homicide detective for the the San Antonio Police Department.
He also writes horror, crime, sci fi and articles like the following I recently discovered "In Cold Blog."
Joe's article sprang from a seminar he attended that featured Mark McClish... a former Deputy US Marshal wth 26 years under his belt.
Mark is an instructor at the US Marhshal's Training Service... and  an expert in interviewing people and detecting deception....AKA lies.
Joe interviewed Mark and the end result is this article and link... a must read for those like me who are paid to help separate fact from fic

"Catching Liars: An Interview With Mark McClish" by Joe McKinney.

Here's a link to Mark's Book through Amazon.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

More On Morbid Art

Now I understand why TV shows have repeat seasons. There's  a whole lot of time required to redevelop and create material.
Same thing with a blog.
To be successful, a blogger must blog daily.
And for me, that would be a breeze, were I independently wealthy.
Alas, I am not.  Rather, I am just another cog in the human hive working for one of whichever higher power(s) we choose to work for.  Right now, I choose to work for food, shelter, clothing and some savings.  My tastes are simple. I am done acquiring.

Years ago, I was a writer before I became a P.I.
I lived in L.A., commuted to New York.  That was a hedonistic, exciting, ego-driven life.
How I became a P.I. and why, is a story unto itself. I haven't written that one here yet.
The point, however, is this: my work now is far more fulfilling.

And had not one door closed, another would not have opened.
Throughout our lifetimes we face many barriers, obstacles, hurdles.... some molehills, others mountains.

A death, divorce,  a move , a loss, an injury... anything can bring some of us so far down down we can't figure out which way is up. Meanwhile, other people seem to glide through life without a care in the world... unaware, oblivious, to the struggles of others.

I am writing this blog today before I begin my day's casework because  for many people, this is a weekend. A time to allegedly refresh, rejuvenate, revive ourselves for the coming week.
And that's what led me to the concept of re-posting a link I put up here when I first started this blog...
way before people even read it.

What I like about this link is not just the subject matter.
Rather, I am impressed by the artist's abilities, creativity, and follow through.
So to those of you who have already seen Patricia Waller's work, I apologize for the repeat link that follows.
For those who haven't, just think.
This was an idea is the artist's head that became quite big simply because she had the courage, talent and savvy to act on her inner vision.
In this world of ours, ideas are a dime a dozen.
Turning ideas into reality, that's the challenge this artist rose to.
That's the challenge we all must rise to in this new... and to many... frightening economy.
Click on the link below and enjoy.
Or not.
The choice is yours.

Go to Morbid Crochet Art by Patricia Waller

Friday, March 19, 2010

Serial Killer Trophies And Tendencies

I am a lifetime student of the psyche of the serial killer.

Admittedly, the mysterious machinations of the mind that seems to float inside the brain cavity has always been a fascination of mine, perhaps more of an obsession. I am most fascinated when thought processes turn extreme. Particularly to murder of the serial variety.

I don't know when that first point in time was, I knew I was hooked.

Could have been Lizzie Borden.
I remember that being the first murder case that stuck with me.
I lived in New Bedford Massachusetts then. Lizzie was from in Fall River. And my best friend then claimed her wealthy father acquired some of Lizzie's things in an auction, including a milking stool. This was my first actual experience with "murderabalia," which was not even officially a concept then, I think.

I don't believe Lizzie was a serial killer. More likely, she was really ticked off at her parents, was PMS'ing big-time, or something just snapped in her head. Whatever went wrong, Lizzie  made all the right post-murder moves. She got the crime scene just so, she got  her story down pat. Then wealthy,  she hired her own dream team and got off, free as a bird with a clipped wing, in the criminal trial like OJ.

I don't believe anyone sued Lizzie in civil court. So all she had to do was live out her remaining years in whatever posture she chose that day -- innocently accused, or evidently guilty. Her nights though, her dreams.... surely.... karma haunted her.

However, from the first time I first heard that people actually hunt other people for pleasure, I was captivated by both the "victimology" (why does one person become a victim and the other not)...
and the "thought processes" of the serial killer (why do some killers work with such organized intellgence and others act so impulsively?).
Also intriguing to me was the trophies, the "murderabelia"  some of these killers keep.
Ultimately, for some, like OJ, years later....that was his ultimate downfall.
It was OJ's trophies, not of murder, but of his career success that finally got him behind bars.

I have studied photographs and documentation of serial killer brains post mortem.
I have read countless books, psychological studies and researched beyond the levels of what might consider a normal pre-occupation.
And true to form, little did I know when I was little, that decades later, I would still be as obsessed as I was the very day I stumbled upon the truth that there were good people, unwell people, and evil people.

With so much going on the world lately -- the economy collapsing, jobs being lost, homes foreclosed, earthquakes, floods, fires -- it's been fairly easy to miss the morsels of news regarding the latest in serial killer findings.

So imagine my somewhat perverse delight when I came upon this article by Andy Kahan in "In Cold Blog".

Serial killer Rodney Alcala is the most recent focus of said obsession on my part... and the discovery recently of hundreds of photos of young women, some taken 30 years ago, was mind blowing to law enforcement officials, and the families of young women who just simply disappeared. Like a lot of serial killers, Alcala  also kept trophies.

You may or may not know who Alcala is. Here's a quote from the article I am linking you to at the end of this post:

"Alcala was so smooth, so suave and debonair, he even managed to appear as a contestant on The Dating Game and was chosen by the Bachelorette. Luckily, for her she had the good sense to decline the date claiming he was too creepy.

In addition to the photos, Alcala also kept earrings from his victims as trophies. Recently, relatives of four young women who have been missing since the 70's advised investigators that they recognized their loved ones from the photos."
Read this article and you may find probing the depths of serial killer memorabelia either enlightening or disgusting. 
Either way, it will let you know one important thing I have learned.
Bad guys, evil people, do not wear tags on their shirts I.D'ing themselves.
Most serial killers, could pass for, or be,  the guy next door.  
Some are even more handsome than your average guy. 
Like Ted Bundy, they lure you in with their good looks, charm and in Bundy's case, a fake cast.
In other cases, like B.T.K., they track and hunt you while wearing the uniform of authority.

Okay here's the link to Andy Kahan's about Rodney Alcala from "In Cold Blog".
It's called "Ghastly-Ghoulish &Sickening Serial Killer Momentoes."

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Affair In The Air

I boarded a jet leaving a large east coast airport bound for Seattle and looked down the aisles wondering who would be my companions in the other two seats for the final six hours of my trip at 30,000 feet.

As I flowed with the human serpentine line that inched through the massive aircraft's center aisle, my gaze jumped between both the overhead seat numbers and the people on board. I noted a couple down the aisle ahead on my left... they cuddled and kissed and intertwined fingers, snug as two bed bugs on a flying rug... lost in each others' gaze.

They were not teenagers,  not twenties, not middle aged. Couldn't figure how old they were. I did note, when they surfaced for air, they were both quite attractive. He could've passed for a anchorman, she an actress. Your proverbial beautiful people, totally and completely in love.

Turned out, they were my seat mates.

"S'cuse me" I said, as I began the polite and challenging art of climbing between the two that allowed entry to my window seat cross country.

At this point, I'll spare  you the infinite details that find their way into books and paragraphs describing everything and everyone in the place.

Suffice to say, by the time we completed our ascent and we were above the cloud cover, the conversation began to flow quickly and freely. No alcohol was involved in this conversation, just coffee  

Admittedly, I was curious about their relationship.
Their's was a raw, pure, unfiltered level of love/intimacy I usually don't witness.
It wasn't sexual or inappropriate for an airplane, it was pure tender essence of a mutual admiration society.
Yet there was  also something odd about it.
It was surrounded by a mysterious veil I was determined to lift.

So I did my thing.
My investigator thing... that appears to be anything but that.
It's how I get doors to open quickly, people to talk freely, secrets to surface freely.

Sometimes, the best opening line is the one that starts with the obvious.
I figured that would work in this case.

"Wow. You guys are both so attracted and clearly so in love," I said as I settled in my seat and noted empty wedding ring fingers.
"What's your secret?"

They both laughed and blushed.
"No kidding, " I said, " You're two peas in a pod. How long have you been been together?"
"Well,"  he said, his voice lowered, "Six months. But we're not officially together yet."

"We're each married to other people," she whispered.
I watched both sets of their eyes lower then raise in unison to mine, looking for some sign of judgment which was not there.

"My wife is psychotic," he said.
"My husband's a loser" she added.

I  leaned in, furthered the rapport and whispered the obvious question.
'Do your current spouses know you guys are together?"

"My wife knows I want out. She doesn't know there's someone else" he whispered back.

"My husband knows I want out but doesn't know about him," she added. "Thing is, he thinks I'm just going through a phase.  He's doing everything he can to win me back. It's  really rough," she said.

They shared more details.

The handsome  man told me  his future ex wife the psycho, was a bitter, angry woman since the day they first married. She screamed frequently, punched holes in doors and walls. She was wealthy, had a trust fund and chose not to work.

His beautiful blond mistress seated beside me told me her  soon-to-be-ex husband was a nice guy with no drive, no energy, no initiative. "He's a woos," she said. She went on to explain he wanted nothing more out of life than the remote and ESPN.

I asked if either had kids.

"No" they both said in unison.
That truly made me happy.
The kids are always the ones hurt most in a divorce.

I told them divorce is one tough thing for an ex to bear. Divorce because of betrayal... it takes it up a couple notches.

Certainly, many  ex's go over the edge, kill themselves or others. Most, fortunately, make it through.

Imho, there is no way to survive a divorce when you are the one being dumped on... without sinking, at least temporarily... into a pit of despair, self-loathing, helplessness and hopelessness.
Some swim in rivers of denial.
Some turn to drugs and alcohol.
Some never find their way back.

Add children to the equation and now you have serious collateral damage.
Children of divorcing parents/splitting couples feel the brunt of the pain and are inextricably altered by that experience for life.

Kids innately believe the divorce was their fault.
With divorce and kids,  the children's  lives.... their sense of security, stability, the  role models who birthed's all collapsed like a house of cards.
No matter how cool you think you are in your divorce,  there is nothing cool about a divorce/break-up to a child whose world has been hosed.

That said, for  many reasons... some times... people are just not meant to be together.
And I believe it is truly better to be single, than to be in a miserable marriage --  in which one partner is cheating, using drugs, alcohol, being verbally, physically abusive, or not contributing to your marriage on any level.

In my humble opinion, its better for  kids to be in a home with a happy single parent instead of squished between two volatile parents who release their mutual venom on the kids.

That said, back to the plane.
The illicit lovers continued to weave their tale for me which was, in part, not unlike a movie I recently saw, "Up in The Air".

Being  P.I. and a human being who is married a second time... suffice to say, I know of what I speak when it comes to divorce, children, relationships, old and new.
I am a wealth of advice, which is what people pay me for when they have needed an assist in backgrounds, domestics, custody cases.

So I sat  there next to them on the plane, noted 1.5 hours  pass as they told me every detail of the story and the business they set up together.
They showed me a presentation on their laptop.
They even gave me their business cards....
All this, before they asked me a single question.

"What do you do for a living?"
I smiled slightly...  couldn't help myself... internally contemplated the next moves their minds and emotions would make.
"I'm an Private Investigator"

"Oh shiiiiit" the man sat, his  faced seemed to turn white.
I didn't know that was possible with a spray tan.
His girlfrind just stared at me wide-eyed, mouth open.

"It's okay, it's okay," I laughed, and moved quickly into damage control mode.
"This really is just a  coincidence. You just happened to tell me everything before you asked me what I do. Consider it nothing more than a lesson learned." I laughed again.

The woman spoke, "We were talking, on the way to the airport this morning, whether one of our spouses would ever hire someone to follow us." She clearly did not believe me.

"Trust me," I said, "Your spouses didn't hire me.  This is really just one of those karmic flukes.
I am so no not interested in bringing harm to you or anyone,  or having you bring a conflict of interest of lawsuit my way, ok"

That convinced them.

Then their next round of questions inevitably ensued.
Because behind every marriage is a complex web of co-mingled  financial assets.... and time, which can also be valued as asset.

I braced for the barrage of questions that came at once.
When to file separation?
How to handle car payments, mortgage payments?
The bank accounts?
How to protect assets?
Taxes ?
How to handle what was once called alimony and is now called  maintenance?

The answer I gave every question was the same
Each state has its own laws.
They need legal counsel.
They need to file separation.

And, I concluded. They need to stop hiding.
When they do, then that  secretive part of their relationship, which is intoxicating in itself, will go away...and they will get to know themselves better... as they face their divorces. And then each other.

I said they've been together 6 months, the high they are feeling is  hormone driven.  The hormones they are  experiencing will start to decline about 9-10 months, maybe longer. The divorces will challenge and change what is now... i told them will evolve from an affair into a real relationship.

The rest of the flight was like any flight... though towards the end,  all banter between us stopped.
I played with my camera, photographed the mountains and the clouds, they played with each other.

When the plane landed and we headed for baggage I observed them looking for me for, so I kept a nice distance.... in the train.... in the baggage area... I just disappeared.

Meantime, the soon-to-exes, the ones who were left and/or cheated on... have no clue what their alleged spouses were up to on that plane and on the ground.  They are the ones I think about as I blog this.  The ones who were left. They are the ones who have a tsunami coming and no warning system.
I  worry because I have been there.
And the only comfort I get in pondering their  unknown fate is knowing I survived mine.
Sometimes... just getting through it... is the most we can hope for.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Inventive Prison Inmates

This is one fascinating read by Ron Francell on one of my favorite blogs, "In Cold Blog"
I think the title speaks for itself.
I hope you find this article as interesting as I do.
Just click on this link:

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Man shoots wife six times, burns house and blames Mafia.

If your relationship, marriage, domestic partnership, or whatever it is you have with someone seems not to be working, here are a few a good ideas.
Get therapy and try to save the marriage.
Or when all else fails, part ways.
The parting doesn't have to be amicable... it seldom ever is.
The parting just has to be legal.
Ideally, it must be safe and fair.
And above all, it must put the interests of the children first when children are involved.
This particular case, the  end of a marriage and a family that I am linking to you, still remains beyond this P.I."s ability to comprehend  the workings of the killers mind.
What on earth was he thinking? Was he thinking? How do we get ourselves to such a point unless there really is no point. Some people are just train wrecks waiting to happen.
IMHO, Michael Carlson was one such train wreck. Only he was a work in process that culminated in a heinous act and a confession letter that defies the imagination.
My heart goes to out to everyone connected with this crime except Michael Carlson.
He appears to be missing both heart and brains.

Her's a link to this story....thanks to Seattle News and Daily Weekly

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

For Authentic People Only

There's this old line I heard throughout my life like a mantra, "you're only as smart as the most intelligent person in the room."

The challenge, of course, is figuring out who really is the most intelligent... and who has you fooled into believing the or she is the most intelligent.

As a Private Investigator, my favorite people are the authentic ones.
The ones that are happy with who they are, flaws and all.

These kind of people are not as few and far between as one suspects.
It's just hard laying your soul bare in a world you feel will judge, condemn or expell you for being different: for making a decision that didn't turn out right; for being human; for being your authentic self.

People don't like to lay down their swords and feel vulnerable. Some women even sleep in their masks.

For bloggers like me, the most intelligent people in the room can be found in the Authentic Blogger. Start exploring this site over the next few days while I'm on the road.

This site reminds you....
it's not  about the destination. It's about the journey.

Follow this link to "The Authentic Blogger":

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Green Jello Brains

It's been an interesting and challenging week. So last night, I dreamed if I did not write something significant, my brain would turn to pulverized green jello.

The dream was mild and no biggie... especially since I knew immediately where  the dream concept came from.
It  came from an old episode of CSI we were watching last night.

The kindly, yet sarcastic coroner took a small, plastic container of green jello from the morgue fridge and shook it  fast and frequently, while his doe-eyed assistant appeared both mesmerized and mystified. Then the coroner dramatically flipped off the little plastic lid.

"This is what happened to his brain in this car accident," the corner said,  as he poured the slimy green goo from the container into his white-gloved hands. It was no longer a solid lump of green jello. It was now chunky, separate, pieces of snot and phlegm hanging off his latex fingers.

"Yummy" my husband said.

I said nothing, just watched the fictionalized analogy with fascination... thinking how many brain injuries I've seen investigating auto accidents.... how it's just a matter of degree how damaged your brain can be when it bounces off the bone in your skull in a wreck.

It was after that episode of CSI we fell asleep.
Then I had the green jello dream, which I wrote about earlier.

And as I related it to my husband this morning, he told me he had a similar dream the night after he heard about the fire in Kingston and the rats.

"What rats?" I asked.

"You don't know about the rats?" he said with visible surprise. "After the fire?" he added.

"No, "I replied... humbled because I like to believe I know about everything, lol.

Long story short, he said, there was a fire at a popular restaurant that was next to the ferry terminal. That's where we take the ferry from hither to yon.

The restaurant was a favorite of ours.... and more so for the people in community who'd grown up around it since they were kids. It had windows overlooking the ferry docks and the boats coming and going. The staff were all great people who worked there forever. The food, drinks, company and locale couldn't be better.

Then there was a fire and the whole thing burnt down.
I knew about the fire.
I watched it smolder.
I surveyed it after.
It was tragedy for its owners and the whole community.
Structure-wise, is was a total loss.
Employment wise, it was a total loss
However, it was  a blessing survival-wise because no one died or was hurt.
No other businesses were destroyed.
Miraculously, the Ferry terminal and boats and nearby marina were safe.
Kudos to the Kingston Fire Department, Police and countless, courageous Volunteers.

I don't know what caused the fire, though I do recall it was not arson.
And there was something about it getting in from the kitchen to the roof.... and moving so fast through the building, it was history before the firefighters could attempt to save it. Fortunately, it was very late at night and closed.

The story I hadn't heard about was the rats.
And this was far more fascinating than the green jello brain dream I had last night.

Evidently, when the building caught fire, it was full of rats no one knew about.... tens of thousands of them. They all escaped en-masse from the burning restaurant and flooded the streets of Kingston.

As the story goes, so many rats flooded the streets, the streets turned black,  a moving, massive swarm of rodents collectively seeking sanction. You couldn't walk for all the rats fleeing.

"Seeking sanction...where?" I asked as the story was stopped for dramatic effect.
The boats and the sea were to the left, the  businesses, city and houses were to the right up.

"The fled into all the sewers, streets, structures, houses, other businesses," I was told.  "They estimated 10,00 rats made an overnight move,"

I was told it took a long time to clean up as many rats as they could, but they're all around us.  They always have been, always will be. Yet none had ever been found in an inspection at the restaurant.

This fire was, by the way, several years ago. No new structure has gone up since.This is the third amazing but true rat story I have heard in the past three days.

One included yet another motel room.
And the third,  I think you're better off not knowing. A case of TMI... Too Much Information.
So I will call this little tail...errr,....tale... a wrap.

In researching this post, I came up with nothing on the net on the restaurant and the 10k rat race.
However, I did come across the following with stories from the 1800's.
I came across this link when researching  a story about a lady who's face was eaten by rats  following a fire. I hope you might find this entire link, cover-to-cover, as fascinating as I do.

Fingers crossed it works:

Friday, March 5, 2010

Iconic Killers

Friday usually isn't such a busy day. Today,  I was hoping to write a semi-brilliant blog and release some of the things in my head that are better off on paper than in the mind.
As a P.I. I find writing about those darker things of a public record nature...therapeutic. Unfortunately, today is not one of those writing days.
I have a long way to go on this day's rounds ---  an estimated 210 miles to cover.

Every day I head out on my investigations,  it's  not always just the cases that always hold the stories, it's the stops in-between.
I could sit in a coffee shop between cases, check my email, catch a cup of java and an amazing story could unfold which I know I must blog about later. Then off I go to my next rounds. And another story presents itself.

So today I will do to you one of my favorite reads by Jeffrey Cohen. It's an article about his favorite reads in one of my favorite reads. And if you can repeat that last line three times in a row without messing up, you win.

It's called "We Love A Good Killer: Our Iconic Murderers"
Just click right here.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

"A Brief Interlude With Holmes And Watson"

I truly intended to write a blog today. I really did.
However, some cases came through and that helps feeds the family, so off I go.

So I leave you with this for now.
This post is a fun read that  comes from one of my FB friends, David Ruffle, who lives an ocean away...  yet, like me, has a thing for a things Sherlock Holmes and his loyal steadfast sidekick Watson.. David gave me permission to post this.


When I glance over my notes and records of cases that Sherlock Holmes had been involved in to some degree, I am faced by so many that are out of the commonplace and present some singular, strange features that it is no easy matter for this humble chronicler to decide what narratives to lay before the public. The incident I am about to relate involved no known crime and the puzzle it presented to Holmes was one with no solution, yet it begs to be recalled as one of those whimsical moments that can occur at any time in a great city.

We both had broken our fast early for the heat was stifling and neither of us had felt able to sleep. The sunlight reflected off the buildings opposite, light danced and filled the street and the early morning murmour of the city coming to life was now bursting into a symphony of noise, a paean to the rich, varied life that went on in London.

Holmes was busy reading The Times and I was attempting to write up the case of the Gondolier and the Russian Countess when we heard footsteps ascending the stairs.

Holmes looked up " Two men, Watson, one certainly taller and larger framed than the other, but even so as nimble and fleet of foot as his companion."

I had no time to reply before the door was flung open and two men such as described by Holmes entered the room.

The larger of the two men, who towered over his companion addressed us, " Pardon me gentlemen for the intrusion, but we appear to be lost."

" Yes, that's right ". said his companion " and we don't know where we are either."

" You are in Baker Street. " I answered.

" Baker Street where Sir ? " asked the amply proportioned one.

" In London of course "

" London ? London ?? " he turned to his friend and said " Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into "

His response was to burst into tears " I didn't mean to......I couldn't help it.....I just touched the button ."

" You just can't leave anything alone can you ? Pardon me, let me explain."

" Yes, please do." said Holmes " Beyond the obvious facts that you are both down on your luck, have both been in the US Navy, have wives who hen-peck you, are regularly harassed by a balding Scotsman I assure you I know nothing about you whatsoever."

" Does this guy know us Ollie ? "

" He most certainly does not and don't call me Ollie ! Gentleman, my name is Hardy, Oliver Norvell Hardy and this is my friend Mr. Laurel."

" My name is Sherlock Holmes and this gentleman is Dr. Watson, now please explain to us the nature of your predicament. "

" Well, it's like this, we were doing some cleaning at the home of a scientist and he asked us not to touch a particular machine he was working on. Stan accidently pressed one of the buttons and engaged six of the gears and we found ourselves here in another country."

" Another country Ollie ? Is this London, England then ? asked Mr. Laurel.

" It certainly is." Mr. Hardy replied

" Thats swell, I had an Uncle once who was building a house in London, but he died. "

" I am sorry to hear that Mr. Laurel, what did he die of ? " I asked.

" A Tuesday.....or was it a Wednesday ?" he said looking most confused and ruffling his hair, which was standing up on end.

" No, my dear fellow, I meant what caused his death ? "

" He fell through a trapdoor and broke his neck. "

" Was he building his house at the time ? " I further asked.

" No, they were hanging him. " came the reply.

I looked across at Holmes and tried to get a silent message across that perhaps I should make an excuse to leave and send for the nearest Constable as we were obviously in the presence of two escaped lunatics. To my surprise, far from being alarmed in their presence, he was laughing in that peculiar silent fashion of his, so much so, the very chair he which he was sitting was rocking.

" Well, gentlemen. " Holmes said, his eyes twinkling merrily." I have some experience in the solving of puzzles and conundrums, but I fear this particular problem is beyond even my powers."

" Say, Ollie I have an idea."

Mr. Hardy's face bore a look of complete amazement at this remark from Mr. Laurel. " You do ? "

" Sure, I'm not as dumb as you look. "

" You certainly are not." answered Mr. Hardy. " Well " he said, twiddling his tie, " we will leave you gentlemen in peace. Come Stanley."

" Goodbye" shouted Mr. Laurel.

" Good day to you both." I said.

" Quick, Watson, we must run after them, not a moment is to be lost."

I was most gratified that Holmes had finally come to the same conclusion regarding our visitors as I had . "If we are to overcome them, should we not enlist the aid of the police Holmes ?"

" Overcome them Watson, I have no intention of doing that ."

" Then, why pray are we going after them ?" I asked.

" Because my dear fellow, I have not laughed this much in a long time. Come,Watson."

Monday, March 1, 2010

The Price Of An Affair

Is committing adultery a crime?
In some states it is.
In others it's not. Depends on where you live.
It all states, adultery sucks.

So if your honey dips him or herself in the murky waters of deception, the potential hazards are  limitless. The ex or ex's new lover may fall prey to an undertow, riptide or or insanely jealous shark from any ocean.

Today is a busy one for this P.I.
I've got domestic cases thrown into my usual personal injury mix.
So I am linking you to another blog about this domestic case by a reporter/writer I admire. Diane Dimond. The article is called "Committing Adultery? You Could Go to Jail" and it was just posted today.

Normally, I don't take on domestic case unless  financial fraud is involved.
I can't stop one person  from cheating on other, or even hope to change that.

I can.... however... with the help of a good lawyer, accountant, our justice system... hopefully catch and  stop one partner from depleting the bank account of the other.
Usually and sadly though,  by the time the deed is discovered, much damage is  already done.
And spent money is very hard to recover, even in a civil judgment.

Please check out this story whether or not you're in a relationship...
or thinking of checking into one you don't belong in.
Remember words are cheap, justice is not.

Link to Diane Dimond's Article