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.

Grandma's Farm

"Remember the time we stayed at Grandma's farm?" Mom asked from the kitchen as I settled prostrate on the couch turning on the T.V.

"Yeah," I replied impetuously.

"Well, she's selling it," Mom replied slightly agitated at my haughtiness.

I froze in consternation.

"What?" was all that escaped my mouth.

"She's selling it, Lina."

The sounds from the movie on the televiosion screen started to drain in my racing thoughts. Haven't she said we could come back anytime? I pondered. I could picture my cousins, Julie and Carrie, and I plucking berries from her berry bushes, making sounds of revelry as we skipped along the beaten path. I remember putting together bright flowers from Grandma's garden to make garlands for Mom and Dad. I recall the delectable taste of Grandma's bluberry pie made from the berries we picked when we had that lavish dinner at her house on the last day of our stay; everyone, Mom, Dad, Julie and Carrie, Grandma, Uncle Henry and Aunt Trudy(Julie and Carrie's parents) and me, were at the table, our faces lit up with rapture.

"Lina?" Mom's voice cut off my flashbacks, " You okay?"

"Tell her not to sell it, Mom," I beseeched.

"It's not my choice, sweetie. Just feel privileged to have such a gratifying childhood," she strided from the kitchen and hugged me tightly.

I stared at the credits on the screen as she squeezed me. They were appearing and disappearing--changing, like my life starting from now.

3WW

Elliot, who was making sounds of revelry in the car, had the privilege of being invited to a lavish dinner by the Queen. He had taken a long time to snap out of his consternation as he prepared to go to the Palace. But with his impetuous attitude he had plucked one of his most undelectable clothing from his wardrobe, not having to ponder as he exited his home.

As Elliot haughtily entered the elegant dining room that had the most carefully carved artworks on the walls, he noticed the Queen's face had turned into a ungratified look. He darted his face to other directions, the same look. Suddenly, Elliot broke into sweat and rushed towards the nearest exit on a whim, leaving the banquet of watchful eyes behind him.