Don't you love it when things fall into place by circumstance outside your control?
(Don't get me wrong - it's good to have things work out from good old fashioned elbow grease and ingenuity of your own accord. But when the clouds dissipate and the sun comes shining through without any effort at all, you just have to smile wide and take it in for all it's worth.)
That's exactly what happened with the Turklington gang.
Out of the blue, the captain at Stiletto Flats P.D. rang us up and delivered the news: "Guys? Turns out the Turklington gang has turned themselves in. I wanted you to know first hand so you could come down yourselves and hear what they have to say ..."
We jumped in the 'Vette (I called shotgun a second before Jeff so he had to ride in the back) and skedaddled down to the station. In a holding room were the three hooligans comprising the Turklington Sisters Robbery Gang: Maude, Daphne and Fiona.
Except they weren't in feminine attire. Not a hint of womanliness. Which was a relief because they made really unattractive looking women.
"I'm going to give you guys 5 minutes with them, okay?" the captain told us. He left the room and we were alone, just the six of us. Maude looked sheepishly at Clark, Daphne wouldn't look at Jeff to save his life and Fiona fidgeted in his seat.
"We're sorry, guys," Maude began confessing. "We just couldn't take it any more. Mostly because it's hard dressing up as women. I might have been a whole different story if the wigs weren't so damned hot and uncomfortable, if we could run in high heels more easily and if the friggin' underwires weren't digging into us every time we bent over ... but we're sorry."
Clark, Jeff and I exchanged looks then returned our stares back at the three of them. We walked out of the holding room without a word.
We thanked the captain who was standing just outside (Clark murmured something under his breath about not letting the shoddy police work that started the whole mess happen again) and we left.
"Well, that was sad" I stated. "Easy but sad. If you can't stand the heat ..."
"Little intrigue, nothing really devious or noteworthy, nothing ..." Jeff commented.
"I actually felt sorry for them. Just a little bit." I thought I heard Clark uncharacteristically sniffle, ever so slightly. But he perked up a moment later. "Hey, let's swing over to Petit's place and throw him out a window. That'll do the trick! Whattaya say, guys?"
The 'Vette peeled off happily down the road.