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

That's Sultan of Sleuthing, 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.

The life of a detective is famed for its variety.

You go from Hero to Villan de Schnock

and back to Hero again with disturbing frequency,

though with none of the tedious regularity

of the changing of the seasons.

Sometimes you run off your feet, a busy cog in the great machine of law and order, and a respected

member of the community in your own way. I would not say those times were vastly in the majority,

quite the opposite, in fact. But whom, I ask, would eat a cake made entirely of frosting?

Aside from King, our trusty dog, and my old pal Freddy, and...

Well, actually, that does sound pretty good, come to think of it.

Most of this is at least somewhat beside the point.

Once upon a time, we all made a choice, and I made mine, a choice to render nothing

unto Caesar, to sell nice concepts like wife and house for a little tin shield and the right to wear

my hat just so. Some days it even seems worth it. Not the thousand days when nothing happens,

but the slow movement of the clock hands circumnavigating another

blank page in the book. Not the hundred days when bills are paid. Husbands spy upon their wives. Wives

give husbands good reason to. Clients cry, clients lie, clients dicker over the bill. Those days I can

do without. But every once in a great while the door opens with a brief hesitation,

...