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.

Thank you. as Trixie Dixon, girl detective. The name's Dixon. Trixie Dixon, girl detective.

I knew that I'd finally crossed the fine line that separates boredom from madness when I started

playing chess with Jack. Old Square Jaw had a ride at the office with a dust-covered set in an old box two months

earlier. At first, I thought he was simply trying to lend a touch a class to the dump, or perhaps

impressed the poor unsuspecting souls to whom we offered resolution of their earthly troubles for the

modest fee of $35 a day plus expenses. But he had taken such care in cleaning each piece and setting

them on the little table

behind his desk just so that I began to suspect the apparatus held something I detested.

Sentimental value. I disliked knickknacks for two reasons. One, they bred clutter, and we had

just about all we could stand of that as it was. And two, sooner or later, no matter how hard you try to demonstrate disinterest,

someone will tell you just where they got that ashtray,

or the moving story behind the acquisition of that pine cone with the glued-on Google Eyes,

as if the presence of a treasured memento wasn't enough.

Like most sentiment, someone had to be watching to make it seem real.

Check.

Stop saying that.

I'm supposed to say it.

Not all the time.

No, not all the time.

...