In step with the sensationalist reporting of the 1920s tabloids, it was conceivably the Omaha newshawks who gave The River Girl her haunting name. Despite that, it wasn’t all provocative paper selling. Although limited to her death and where her
Tag: Omaha Detectives
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I found the letter placed on my desk. The envelope had been tidily cut open with a paper knife, its contents, a single sheet, still crisply folded inside. I presumed this was Mr. Cross’s passive way of letting it be known that he’d like to
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Hello and welcome! Dear Detective Friends, today, March 2, 2020, My Omaha Obsession is celebrating a four-year birthday party online. We have grown so much this year and I want to thank each and every one of you for that. You have really spread
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I was on my merry way into my newest Byzantine investigation at the W. Dale Clark Library when I happened upon the old club fenced in, like a wayward jailbird or some unruly cattle pen. My heart lifted for a split minute, imagining a resplendent
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This obsession with magnificent homes degenerates into lunacy rather quickly, don’t you agree? As soon as one learns of another kindred spirit or finds a good group of architectural snoops such as ours, one begins to recognize the exhilarating
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In my years of making the tour on Western Avenue, I had never seen a sign of life at 5429 Western, although it was plain she was very well looked after. All the same, having observed her for that amount of time, one would think one might catch a
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Imagine my delight when I spied one of my favorite Rockbrook Darlings had been put on the market just the other day. I will confess I have died a thousand deaths over this residence. In fact every time I indiscreetly slink past her in my
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An easy steer east on Leavenworth has long been a pageant for the senses and I suppose it has always been that way. There were animated performers in plenty on that Saturday morning as I hummed along the street, taking it all in—shop keeps
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“Now that is a moon….” Mr. Cassette sighed, as we were lying under our Larch, staring up at the sky just the other night. This is his new thing, lying on the still warm ground and one that I have fully embraced. For the spring
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I had written Rose Lodge on a manila file folder over a year ago, an early target investigation that I had hoped to explore in my first months at this sleuthing business. Eventually the folder was buried like so many of my dead of night