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June 27, 2005

Ted: The Case of the Turkish Eagle

I could tell this one was going to be trouble. They always are when the dress is crimson, the night is rainy, and the girl is brunette.

But I sized up the four mugs hassling her and even through the gin knew she couldn't handle it herself. She could handle lots of things, but not four guys in an alley.

My sap took the first two on the back of the head but the others needed convincing from my .38.

"Who the hell are you?" she said, her accent rich, exotic.

"Toots, I'm just the next man you're gonna blame."

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