The Case of the Diamond Catcher

It was 10 o'clock on a Friday night and I am sitting there in my office in 125A, 50th Street, Waterloo Avenue with the lamp shining on my latest case: a series of puzzling robberies in jewelry stores around the Glasshouse town, leaving the staff of the stores in a state of anarchy. It was no ordinary robbery, mind you. What was taken was only diamonds. Yes, diamonds, ingeniusly picked out of their rings like plucking strawberries out of the bush under the cover of darkness. The Diamond Catcher, some have nicknamed. Who or what would conspire such a bizzare burgurlary?

I puffed on my cigar, musing on the information I had gathered today. I had stopped by a jewelry store that has not been robbed to loan a diamond ring; I wanted to study how this rock could be taken out with sheer delicacy. Then I rememeber meeting up with Olie Benson--one of the witnesses of the robberies--and had some coffee on Broadway while he told me what he saw. When we were done, I had decided to get the lights I ordered for the apartment, since the shop was right across the street. The shop, I noticed, had a dark green van parked outside, the same van Benson had mentioned. I noticed a chandelier being made as I paid for the lights. I recall, when I was leaving, seeing the maker using a special plier taking out something from a...ring.

I reached for the telephone, I am very sure Inspector Menken would like to hear who to apprehend for the case of the Diamond Catcher.