Jeffrey Byrne, age 38, of 156 Maid Marian Lane, Parkside, apparently drowned in the early morning hours of Tuesday, May fourth while on a business trip in Norfolk, Virginia.
One hundred fifty-six Maid Marian Lane was a neatly kept ranch to which a one-car garage had been added.
Most of their friends were local to Maid Marian Lane where they had lived for nine years.
Anderson's wife Marian answered on the first ring.
Dean could picture Marian Anderson standing there in a silk robe, cigarette holder in hand, looking every bit the wealthy socialite she was.
Marian, it's too early for a definitive answer, but don't give away your old golf outfit just yet.
Marian Anderson, with more money than a small city bank, was always inheriting something.
As Dean drove away from Maid Marian Lane, he made up his mind to find out if the world had put a crown on Saint Jeffrey a little prematurely.
She added, "Leland Anderson's wife Marian says you're a schmuck for not solving the Byrne thing and causing her to lose her bet."
Dean was halfway out to 156 Maid Marian Lane before it dawned on him he'd neglected to pick up his just-in-case change of clothes.
When Dean pulled in the drive at Maid Marian Lane, Randy was walking a bike into the open garage.
The lieutenant's wife Marian answered the phone.
Now Marian, be nice.
The drive to Maid Marian Lane was becoming more familiar with each passing trip—no more need to count the blocks.
He attributed his pleasant disposition to memories of the prior evening with Cynthia Byrne, the sweetheart of Maid Marian Lane.
On the drive to Maid Marian Lane, one thought plagued Dean's spinning mind.
They must have followed you to Maid Marian Lane and thought Vinnie might be stashed there.