A Patsy Named Patsy

Being a private investigator means two things. You can be sure you'll run into trouble and you can never be sure you'll get out of it. Not much you can do about it I guess except like Julie always says, Walk softly please destroy.

And now Peter Troy investigates a patsy named patsy. To gain their evil ends, if I may re-coin a thoroughly beat up phrase, criminals commonly resort to a number of well-known weapons, One of which is the frame up.

In the use of this nasty device, they have something in common with a lot of people who are not criminals in the ordinary professional sense. But who are just a teeny bit crooked and very unpleasant in a number of other ways.

Which brings me to the case in which as far as we are concerned, the villain of the piece was a Mrs. Erica Faulkner. Why, Chewp, you're too old to buy him. What? Who the devil are you?

I asked you first and it seems to me I have much more right to ask. What is this? I can't have come into it. No, this is my apartment. How did you get in? I was admitted by the lady of the house. If it's any of your business, how did you get in?

It's my own key. Wait a minute. Lady of the house? There's no lady living here. What the places are you doing? Dress like that, dressing gown or what have you. Because then you've just gone out of bed.

It so happens that I did. What else would any decent girl be at one o'clock in the morning but tucked up in bed? This is crazy and I must be dreaming. I still want to know what you're doing here.