Once again, Decoder Ring Theater presents another page from the casebook of that Master of Mystery,

that's Sultan of Sleothing, Martin Bracknell's immortal detective, Black Jack Justice,

starring Christopher Mott as Jack and Andrea Lyons as Trixie Dixon Girl Detective.

The name's Justice.

Jack Justice.

They say that familiarity breeds contempt,

and I suppose that's true.

Some people find it easy to despise that which they see every day.

People, places, things, any of your major nouns are in play.

If it weren't for you, I could have...

What have you?

It was an old song, one that hung in the air whenever a divorce case staggered through our doors,

like the boozy refrain of a tired orchestra that didn't know when to call it a night.

There were as many reasons for this as there were stories in the naked city, I suppose.

But they all added up to the same twisted, misapplied self-hatred that ate up an awful

lot of people that otherwise didn't seem to have an awful lot to complain about.

But it was different where blood was concerned. There was no

greater source of both familiarity and its wicked step-sister than in the crowded branches of your

own family tree. These days people had no qualms about picking up stakes and starting a new life,

and once sacred bonds of holy this and that now seemed like quaint relics of a bygone age.

But however much of yourself you lost and found, you couldn't shake family.

As for me, Trixie and I had recently enjoyed plenty of opportunities to get familiar with the

...