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.
“It is short for Philomena. Would you want to be called by that old-fashioned name?”
Of course Eddie would have a Philomena story. He has a story for any occasion.
“How soon can you be here?”
“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.
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.
“Maybe he was a visitor at some house on your block,” Fanny speculates about a holiday guest.