Mary Frances and Donald in Hialeah

Mary Frances and Donald walked down E. 49th Avenue a few yards until they found Don's scooter, a 45-year old Lambretta his late buddy Elliott gave him shortly before a super-aggressive cancer claimed the 26-year old.  The Lambretta was perfect for the bustling streets of Hialeah and was particularly handy because Don could maneuver it easily over the sidewalks and chain it almost everywhere.  An added bonus was the Lambretta's wide chassis and cushioned seats.  His mom had a fine time riding on the back of the scooter, the hot wind blowing what remained of her hair.

"Whoa!" Mary Frances shouted as Don accelerated to 6 miles an hour.

Although her impatient son had written off the pawnshop tour as a loss, Mary Frances had gathered a number of promising clues.  She learned that for the last 5 or 6 years no pawnbroker had seen or heard about a ring like the one Lazarus had found beneath Mary's fridge.  After talking Penelope into making a bunch of phone calls, Mary found that no estate jewelery dealer in Dania or Hollywood had seen such a ring in more than 10 years.  Employing Donnie as her research assistant had also been a good move that only cost Mary Frances a kettle of her famous chicken soup whenever he'd drop by for a visit to take the sting from his recent move to Hialeah.  Donnie's web surfing had identified a ring just like Herb's, but its availability was limited to a few web sites.  And the jewelry dealers who ran those sites weren't ab le to give Mary an historical lineage of their rings.  They'd purchased them from estates belonging to folks who were long gone.

Back at mom's condo, Don asked Mary Frances what was burning on the stove.

"Thaglosustingriblendetickburgers/"

"I told you I wanted chicken soup, not burgers.  It's the only thing you know how to make that won't poison me, mom/"

"I'll slap you down."

"So, now you're a full time detective, mama?"

"I don't see why not."

"Yeah, I guess an old fart's gotta do something with her life," Donnie said.  "Next you're gonna be asking me to take you to get your detective's license."

"Thagznodabegidee,"

"It's not going to happen."

A half hour later Don was busy at the computer keyboard with Mary Frances attempting to dictate.

"Look, this is too painful.  Trust me.  I can write the letter without your having to dictate; it'd take me a month and by then you'll misplace the ring and your trail will run cold."

August 2, 2005
Florida Department of State Division of Licensing
P.O. Box 6687
Tallahassee, FL 32314-6687


To Whom it May Concern:


I am an ancient 88-year old female who would like to know the procedure for getting a Detective's License in the State of Florida.  Do you have any photos of buffed 75-year old male detectives with lots of money I can collaborate with?  Please send me the necessary information so I can get my license before I drop dead.

Sincerely,

Mary Frances Cohen
1700 NE 191 Street
Miami, FL  33179


"Here, read it."

The old woman read the letter and said:

"Now edit it.  You think you're so funny."

"You're derned tootin I'm funny!" Don said.

"