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.

I'm a detective, a PI, a sleuth, a snoop, a peeper, a roper, a shoefly.

Forgive me.

My wife recently tried to dress my office up with the strategic scattering of professional-looking props, one of which may possibly have been a thesaurus.

The point is that when you have a problem, I am the person you call. Well, me and a certain blonde sass mouth of my long acquaintance whom I keep meaning to shoot and never quite get around to.

It is entirely up to you, if that sounds like a bigger problem than you came in with, but you might

not be wrong about that. But they usually don't. You see, a lot of the time, the troubles that

drive people through the gray-green door to our palatial offices aren't that big, or complicated,

or anything, really. They are outside

of their experiences all. They don't know how to handle it or even where to begin. And in this

state of befuddlement, they assume a degree of complexity that does not always exist. This,

I find good. Of course, like every rule worth its salt, there are exceptions which prove them.

These occasions provide a certain amount of color in the annals of our case files,

but are otherwise entirely too much work.

And we would avoid them like the plague, if only we could tell which was which before we signed on the dotted.

And it wasn't always easy.

But when you had been doing this sort of thing for a certain number of years, you acquired an

instinct for it, an ability to fill in the unspoken details and extrapolate who was a babe lost

...