It happened like this. I rushed through the office and asked, “Where did the photograph from 9402 Pacific Street go to?” As I shuffled through a stack of manilla file folders, my coffee stained case notes and recently delivered mail, I pleaded
Tag: World War I
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Calling all Mister Daddy-Os and Miss Cool Kittens. The drugstore’s jukebox jumpin’ but right now and not later, babies! Gather ‘round the soda fountain and let me tell you a story of Sparkle Moore, the rockabilly singer from Omaha. Just out of
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I will openly confess, I began to dig for McKinney leads and their Hidden House property with a sort of preconceived inclination. I suppose that was biased of me. My desire was that the newest couple to own 1023 South 96 Street would be Omaha’s
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My obsession with Frank Salontay began quite innocently. I was actually shadowing his short-lived business partner and sometimes rival, hairdresser Robert Siegmann. At one time Siegmann lived in a mansion I began spying when I started the
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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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Between you, me and the postman, I should have rang that doorbell when I had the chance. The shake shingle and stone cottage was a New England Classic. Any beady-eyed lingerer could see, 10805 Poppleton Avenue was the Real Deal Mystery disguised
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Early in the 1940s, racing “a murky sky between showers, five cars of Omahans, four to a car, went treasure hunting,” under the direction of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Stocker. The Stocker couple, no doubt, enjoyed hosting themed parties, as was the
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You and I are obsessed with the look of a proper estate with tall creepers and twiner-covered wrought iron gates. Even typing this I tremble to think of the extravagance of it all. Just imagining having one’s morning coffee on a patina copper
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I was at the downtown W. Dale Clark Library many months ago when I first came upon her name. I was deep in research, working a case, looking to put the finger on some gin mill or grifter long before my time. Gunnin’ for a piece of evidence