I've chased more bad guys running Bird Song bed and breakfast than when I was a Parkside, Pennsylvania police detective.
Dean "attended" college, served in the military, and was employed by the Parkside, Pennsylvania Police Department for fifteen years.
He added, I was a detective in Parkside, Pennsylvania.
Parkside isn't a 'big city.'
Finally someone from back in Parkside told them.
Detective David Dean sat in the Parkside Pennsylvania Police Headquarters with his feet in his lower desk drawer.
The uniformed guys downstairs had drawn lots to see who got stuck informing the next of kin, and since that time, speculation on the disappearance of Jeffrey Byrne had been the chief topic of conversation at the Parkside Police Department.
Parkside was a small city of 40,000 located 50 miles northwest of Philadelphia.
Sackler crossed the room to the trashcan, retrieved the prior day's edition of the Parkside Sentinel and read aloud.
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.
Motel personnel conducted a search and a motel employee later found the Parkside man's clothing and room key on the public beach across the road.
He was the husband of Cynthia Cosgrove Byrne and the father of Randy Byrne, a Parkside High School senior.
Parkside had held up well, faring much better than some of its sister cities in eastern Pennsylvania.
While Parkside was officially beyond the limits of sensible commuting, enough hardy souls made the long daily trek into Philadelphia to label the town an outlying bedroom community.
At least in Parkside you're around friends.
She named a salary figure close to the small amount Dean drew from the Parkside Police Department.
My sister lives up in Parkside and sometimes I hook a ride up with Jeff so's I can visit.
From a pay phone in the lobby of the large building, he placed a call to the Parkside Police Department.
Punching the buttons on his car radio, he finally found music that didn't assault his senses and pushed ahead toward Parkside, ready to call it a day.
A few weeks later Dean was discharged from the service and he gravitated back to Parkside and, temporarily he thought, to Collingswood Avenue.
Not only was Rita the fastest typist in Parkside, she was the neatest.
While the pair was a definite annoyance to the Parkside police, the two were seldom a serious problem...
This distinction granted him the position—nay, the obligation—of coaching Parkside High Baseball, and so he did, for as far back as anyone could remember.
The exception was this year when Parkside had a legitimate shot at success.
Dean once looked up Coach Grayson's professional record in the Baseball Encyclopedia at the Parkside Library.
Dean never mentioned this bit of detective work to anyone, but he could guess who had torn the page from the Parkside Library edition.
Just making the Parkside High baseball team had been a miraculous ascension from being the-you-take-him-we-don't-want-him-boy when the kids chose sides in sandlot games.
Parkside was leading seven-zip with one inning remaining.
Ethel lived in the pride of Parkside, a new six-story luxury apartment building southeast of town.
Just tell her the Parkside Betterment Society voted for Billie and Willie to improve the city by getting lost.
The latest entry dated Monday showed a mileage figure and the starting point of Parkside, Pennsylvania.
The story of the inefficiencies of the Parkside Police caught his attention.
I play for Parkside, strictly double 'A' at best.
He then told her the Parkside Police Department would close the investigation from this end unless something new came to light.
You read the newspaper—not the New York Times—you read the Parkside Sentinel.
They don't stock the Parkside Sentinel in all the libraries around the country like they do the big city papers.
Dean knew the Parkside Sentinel would be going full steam later in the day, so he stopped by the red brick building on his way to work.
Monica Cutler had performed every duty but setting type at the Parkside Sentinel for the past 20 years.
Harry Turnball was a young and energetic truck driver who delivered the Parkside Sentinel.
They want Parkside to be involved.
Like everyone else, he'd hoped Parkside was out of the case and was disappointed to learn the FBI was expecting Parkside's continued assistance in the investigation.
Only Sackler and Dean of the Parkside crew would know the new location where the Feds would store Baratto until they figured out what to do with him more permanently.
After an hour of circles he spotted a numbered highway he recognized, although he was much further from Parkside than he'd suspected.
Dean was out of the house before Fred arose and the morning passed uneventfully with Dean, Harrigan and Tom DeLeo addressing the usual assortment of Parkside offenses.
He rents an address, not too close to Parkside but not too far away, like maybe Scranton!
If you're Byrne, why order the Parkside paper way back in April?
Dean had given Fred the business the entire trip from Parkside but the old man remained undeterred.
It was still early and Dean figured they'd get back to Parkside in time for a few hours of biking.
The man's from Parkside and Cleary subscribed to a newspaper from there.
Dean was within ten miles of Parkside before he noticed a blue Ford that had stayed behind him for an unusual length of time.
How come Parkside is springing for this trip?
Only the Lord knew what Linda Segal, The Ice Lady of the Parkside Sentinel, would do with this turn of events.
But it looked like Parkside could wash its hands of Wasserman's death—there was no way he'd floated out of their land-locked jurisdiction to the Chesapeake Bay.
He told her of his conversation with Parkside and she was appreciative that word was being conveyed to Randy.
Dean called the Parkside Police Department and caught hell from Leland for not keeping him posted on the Wasserman autopsy and current details.
"Only in your mystery stories, not in Parkside," Dean answered disgustedly.
News of the break-in on Collingswood Avenue had traveled with the speed of an Olympic sprinter through the Parkside, Pennsylvania police department.
This silence did little to get Linda Segal, the Ice Lady of the Parkside Sentinel, off his back.