A little lost lamb in the big, bad city is hardly a new theme for our intrepid investigators. But with a couple of hundred pounds of strapping small-town lawman distracting the heck out of the Girl Detective, it looks like it's down to Ol' Square-Jaw to keep the Home Fires burning.
There are only two things that are certain in this life, my friends. One is that very little is as it appears, an observation which includes but is not limited to the itemized list of expenses for which you have recently been charged. The other certainty is that it will cost you the princely sum of thirty-nine, ninety-five a day to discover item "A". Oh yeah, also Death and Taxes.
There are many days when the life of a private detective is not nearly as interesting as you might imagine. The clock ticks, the sun makes its way resolutely across the sky and not much else happens. And on other days, the door bursts open and opportunity strides in, reeking of after-shave and waving an action-packed expense account about like he owned the place. And when that happens, best buckle up, friends, 'cause this is The Big Time!
They say that a little learning is a dangerous thing, my friends, but in all fairness, they don't usually mean the life-and-limb variety. But when a would-be writer of hard-boiled fiction hires a certain team of his and hers private detectives to help his prose ring true, he had better drink deep or think twice about the whole "Pierian spring" business.