Seattle Joe sat in his office in downtown Seattle. He was a detective. A dame walked into his office.

“It’s an honor to meet a distinguished British person,” he said.

“I’m not that kind of dame,” she said. “This is a detective story.”

The dame had a point. He could see she was going to be trouble.

She said, “I have a job for you, Mr. Seattle.”

“I already have a job. I’m a detective.”

“I know, which is why I have a case for you.”

Joe didn’t like cases, but he knew they were expected of detectives, so he didn’t hesitate. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

“It’s my husband,” said the dame. “He’s been stolen.”