Constance Caraway P.I. ~ Episode 17

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Constance Caraway P.I. ~ Episode 17

…Their gruff cabby, turned chauffeur, for all his tale-telling foibles, is as reliable as they come…

“My name is not Carol, it’s Constance Caraway and Fanny is Fanny, not Sara,” the offender admits.

“I knew something was fishy. Sara, didn’t play pool like no librarian. Oh, I meant Fanny… is that her real name, Fanny?”

“It is short for Philomena. Would you want to be called by that old-fashioned name?”

“I had an Aunt Philomena, huge lady, wore enough Lemon Verbena to kill the tree it came from; could smell her from a mile away.”

Of course Eddie would have a Philomena story. He has a story for any occasion.

“How soon can you be here?”

“One hour and tell that jammoke at the gate that I’m coming. I don’t want him turning my cab inside out!”

“Hey, you’re one of ‘us’ now, cashing in on some of those tax dollars we pay in.”

Punctuality should be high on the list of human intrinsic worth, right up there with honesty and loyalty. If you tell someone you are going to do something, do it. It sounds simple, but as time goes on, the notion of black and white or right and wrong is slowly fading to middling gray and contentious litigation.

Christmas 1950

Their gruff cabby, turned chauffeur, for all his tale-telling foibles, is as reliable as they come. On December 25th 1950, when 99% of God fearing people are knee deep in crumpled wrapping paper and immersed in the aroma of the coming noontime feast, Edward Francis Dombroski III has arrived at Argonne National Laboratory 58 minutes from the time he hung up the phone.

“I hate to be a Scrooge, but I had the feeling someone was watching my house; there was a car with one guy in it sitting across the street. His engine was running, but he hadn’t moved all morning.”

“Maybe he was a visitor at some house on your block,” Fanny speculates about a holiday guest.

Probably not.

Constance Caraway P.I.

Forever Mastadon

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