I have always felt that winter was the absolute best time of year for house spying, what without all of the beautiful, interfering foliage, the disturbing undergrowth, the distracting flowers, all forms of plant life that normally wink and
Category: Mysteries of Omaha
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When I was evaluated to be just old enough, my mother gave me her 1940’s dollhouse. This was not any old dollhouse. Mother of Miss Cassette had first viewed it and its building specs in a Popular Mechanics magazine at her Aunt Etta and Uncle
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I have been told there was once a dark mansion, somber but rich. Enclosed in dense trees and shrubs, this unapproachable beauty was settled within the wood of a hill overlooking Leavenworth Street. If you had happened to meander down the lane,
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Here in the detective office, just as at home, I like to keep up appearances, if for no one but myself. The mishmash of a period-imbued backdrop fans my little dream, nudged along by the likes of Ethel Waters and Scrappy Lambert and his Colonial
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The Miss Cassette Detective Agency had suddenly sprung into being one day in a rented, 1940s furnished office enshrouded in Midtown. My objective was to handle and solve the closed book architectural cases with which I was perplexed and couldn’t
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Years ago, when I had first hired Mr. Cross to address my messes in the detective office, attend to telephone calls and handle my mailings and such, he placed an opened, pale blue envelope on the ol’ tanker in a la-de-da manner. With
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I wish I could recapture a bit more from my child’s eye view of the large, Asian house. The memory is a tissue thin scrim of standing by the railed porch with my father and his friends, awaiting entrance to a blurred art opening. The ambiguous
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Allow me to read to you from one of my favorites, Daphne Du Maurier’s Gothic novel, Rebecca: “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for
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The first time I was invited to today’s Architectural Obsession, I innocently accepted without knowing what elegance and assurance was lying in wait; a galpal’s request was reason enough. I was asked to bring a dish to share on this winter
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If you have not yet followed the footsteps along the path of Mysteries of Omaha: 1002 North 72nd Street, you will want to turn back around, exit through the secret wardrobe, crawl toward your room and head to the very beginning. Look for the big