Cheesecake Caper

The adventure's up Sam's page detective. Did I say? Oh, I thought you'd say. Time thing sweetheart, just a flash ball in the pan.

As you will agree, when you have heard my report on the cheesecake capers. Not to be in fact sure. I'm beautiful. Oh, okay. It was a photography caper. Yes, and as of the thought, it was a snap.

Does that make you shutter? Oh, please. Well, have you got any photography, Joe? No. All right then, we just saved 30 seconds. And by the way, Miss Perane, statistics prove that nine out of ten private secretaries have the pencil ready when the force comes in.

Why do you always have to be number ten? Well, I'm ready, Sam. Here's the pencil. I'm not better. Two homicide divisions, San Francisco Police Department, attention lieutenant Kelsey from Samuel Spade, license number 1,7596, subject for cheesecake.

They're Kelsey. Cheesecake to me was something that cost 25 cents in the Alacart side of a menu up until now. As a matter of fact, the cheesecake thing didn't make itself felt until sometime after the beginning of this, which was the phone call at high known, just as I was wondering why I'd eat.

Sam's right. Mr. Spotsy, go to lunch, is it? Uh-uh, tell you later, I gotta see you first, right now. Well, all right, do you want to come to my office? No, no. Yeah, I know where that is.

Who'll I ask for? Just going to... Yeah, let me get this straight. Now, are you hiring me? Yeah. This day is when I have sorrow brought in as a state of pancake to Pawney's, but then it has been only that very morning that my secretary, Ms. Abby Perrin, and look at my figure of what she is usually and audibly