The Casebook of Justice and Dixon.

The Case of the One That Got Away, Part One.

The name is Dixon.

Trixie Dixon Girl Detective.

They say that no good deed goes unpunished, and I guess that's true. It's less an

expression of the futility of change and more an acknowledgement that, come what may, the

universe has a way of balancing out, and I guess that the curious case of Victor Sabian was as good

an example as any. There was a time when old Squarejaw and I had as simple a relationship with the good

lieutenant as you could possibly ask for. He hated our breathing guts and wished to see us

incarcerated if possible and, if not run out of the city, state, and detective business in that

order, once and for all. Ever so gradually the heat and pressure of this relationship had turned

the coal of mutual loathing into a diamond,

and the good lieutenant was now as close to friend as two people who don't really like anybody, particularly each other, were ever likely to have.

And not to sound mercenary, but when you colored outside the lines of law and order, as we often did,

it never hurt to have

the head of robbery homicide in, or at least near, your corner.

All of this is true, but it was also true that the universe was keeping track of that convenience,

and sooner or later the bill was going to come due.

Bill's coming due, and indeed past due, was not a new sensation at the mighty world headquarters of Justice and Dixon, private investigations,

but we were reasonably flush having stooped to a little bounty work in the shallow end of the talent pool of the local crime community.

The work was not cheerful, and there were no expense account lunches but the wolf was as far

from the door as he ever was likely to be and that was going to have to be good

...