Heavenly Helen

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, Detroit.

And now, Peter Troy investigates Pandora's boxer. Women, as half the world knows, is just another word for trouble. I say half the world because only one half is made up of guys, and the other half being girls, there's bound to be some difference of opinion on this matter. Be that as it may, there is

a story about a doll called Pandora, who was given a box which he promised never to open. But Pandora, being naturally smitten with curiosity, couldn't keep the promise and did, in fact, open it. And lo, as the man said, out flew all the evils in creation and spread over the earth and plagued mankind forevermore.

But I'll slam the lid, too late of course, and trap one small creature called Hope. The moral seems to be that all we have left is Hope, which is a pretty dismal prospect. But all this brings me to a rather more modern Pandora who was just about as expert as a namesake in loosing trouble on other people, though in a rather different way.

Sent to me. You're not listening to me about Pandora. Don't let me try to do that. All the training in the world is going to help you get into trouble. That means getting into trouble.

Why the hell? I've heard about men like that. They even kill people sometimes. Oh, well you're a little cheer up aren't you? I'm trying to face the facts and get you to face them. The facts are that I'm a fighter.