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THE CASE OF THE SNORA DIAMOND THIEF


Description

    A humorous, science fiction, short story.


Excerpt
    The dame seemed adamant, and it was up to me to give her the confidence she desired, and the self-assurance that she needed in order to know that she would definitely get her diamonds back. “I’m sure you do want them back,” I said. “And you will have them back, . . . if the trail is still hot, and if there are enough clues, . . . but I can’t guarantee anything.”
    “You can’t?”
   I thought I might have worded it the wrong way. “Look toots,” I said, “if anyone can get them back, it will be me. ” I knew I was the best, ormaybe there was one other who might be better, or maybe more than one, after all I didn’t know all the “PI’s in Schmolden, or for that matter, the entire planet of Irth. But I figured, out of everyone I knew, I had just as much chance getting them back as anyone else. Once I got the scent I was like a snoop dog after a yummy.
   “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “When you get here, my husband, Fred, will make all the arrangements, and by that, I mean your fees and expenses.”
   “Suits me” I said. I was about to hang up. I had my finger hovering over the button. I started to push the button, but then I wondered why she didn’t say, ‘Good-by,’ and then I realized I didn’t know her address. Whoops, I thought. I quickly withdrew my finger. “So, where are you?”
   “We’re in a little village in Mexico of Earth, called Snora.” She gave me the address, and then said, “Get here as quickly as you can.” And she hung up. She still didn’t say, ‘Good-bye.’
   I got on the internet and Googled Fred and Fran Jimson. (As a note: the people on my planet aren’t stupid – well maybe sometimes, but for the most part, not. So, when we find some useful technology on another planet, we copy it. And thus, we have the internet, and some bright boy even started Google. Needless to say he is now a multibillionaire). Anyway, I found out everything I could about Fred and Fran Jimson, and then I turned off the computer. I pushed the button on the intercom.
   “Yes,” came a calm, wonderful voice.
   “Wallis, I have to go to Earth in the morning. It seems there are some shenanigans going on that need to be looked into.”
   “I’ll go with you,” she said.
    But I countered with, “It would be best if you stay here, in case someone else has a case and wants to hire me.”
   She was as reluctant as a seal going to breakfast with a polar bear. But my charm, wit, personality, and my ability to tire a tirade from my vocabulary finally convinced her.
   She said, “Okay, but you have to call me everyday. The way you do things worries me.”
   “Everyday,” I assured her, and I flipped the switch. What did she mean, ‘The way I do things?’
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