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INNOCENCE IS BLISS

Constable Renfield Turnbull walked into Helena's Gift Shop. He looked around a little, and then headed to the card section. "May I help you?" asked one of the saleswomen.

        "Yes," he replied. "I'm looking for a gift for my wife. Her birthday
is in a few days."      "Last-minute shopping?"
        "You could say that." 
        Unknown to Turnbull and the saleswoman, a man in blue jeans and a white
t-shirt walked into the store, a backpack slung over his shoulder.      "Well,"

the woman continued, "we have a lovely selection of glass statuettes and vases. We just got in a new statuette that is of a dove on a heart." She motioned to the display that showed the glass objects. On a cardboard box pedastle was the dove statue. As Turnbull examined the dove, the man unzipped his backpack and took out a black sweatshirt and a black

ski mask.       "Oh, that is lovely," Turnbull agreed, hoding the dove. "Francesca
will love this. How much is it?"        "One hundred and twenty dollars."
        "Nobody move!" The man in the ski mask had a gun pointed at a cashier.

"Give me the money, or you'll wish you had." With that the cashier began dumping handfuls of money into the man's backpack. Turnbull pulled the saleswoman behind a shelf of cards, and the two of them ducked down. "You stay here," he ordered. "I'll go for help." Quietly, he crawled toward the door. Then he stood up and ran out the door. "Hey, stop!" the man yelled, firing his gun at the glass door. It shattered to pieces as Turnbull ran for his life.

        At the police station, Ray Vecchio was having a slow day. He picked
up a pencil and tried to balance it on his nose.        Tom Dewey, a fellow
detective, ran through the double doors. "Vecchio!"     Ray dropped his

pencil. "What, what is it?"

        "There was a burglary at Helena's Gifts. You'll never believe who they
turned in. Come with me."       Ray followed him down a hallway to a grilling
room. Inside was a handcuffed Turnbull.         "Renfield, what the heck is

goin' on?" Ray asked.

        "Well, it's a very long and rather strange anecdote," he replied. "It
all started when--"     "Oh, a confession!" Officer Micheal Turner pointed

out. "You don't think you'll get a way with it do you?" He got right in Turnbull's face. "Well, you are so right. You won't!" "Give it a rest, Mike." Detective Jack Huey pushed him out of the way. "You were saying, Turnbull?" "Okay, I was going to get a birthday present at Helena's Gifts for Francesca. So the lady there shows me a lovely statuette of

a dove in a heart."     "Which you stole!" Turner broke in.
        "I did NOT steal it!" Turnbull fought back. "Anyway, as I was looking

at it, a man in a black ski mask told the cashier to hand over the money. So the saleswoman and I hid behind a shelf of cards, and I tried to sneak out and get help. But I forgot that I had taken the statue with me. So I'm running with an expensive statue in my hand, and I'm being followed by a man in a ski mask carrying a backpack full of money. It doesn't look good for me. Then Officer Turner stopped me and said that I was under arrest, and he let the real thief get away." "Nice going, Mike," Ray spat. "You arrested my brother-in-law for something he didn't do." "Well, of course you'll sympathise with your brother-in-law!"

        "I'm sympathising because he didn't do it!"
        "Where's Francesca?" Turnbull interrupted.
        Ray turned to him. "Frannie? She's out at lunch with Kate, the desk
sergeant."      "That's a relief. She doesn't know about my gift for her."
        Ray frowned. "That's what you're worried about?"
        "Also, could you call Inspector Thatcher at the Consolate and tell her
what has happened? I'm sure she'll understand."         "The Dragon Lady? Understand?"
        "Wait a sec," Turner ordered. "The Consolate? What's that, like a bar

or something?" "No, dirt for brains, the CANADIAN Consolate," Ray answered.

        "So he's Canadian?"
        Ray grinned. "Hey, he is! He has diplomatic immunity!"
        Turnbull jumped up. "I have diplomatic immunity! WOO HOO!" He began

singing and dancing around in a manner not becoming of a mountie. "Go Renfield, go Renfield..." "You arrested a Canadian, Mike," Ray scolded. "And you let the real thief get away. You could have--Renfield, stop that!" He scowled at Turnbull, who reluctantly stopped dancing. Ray continued. "You could have been doing something constructive instead of arresting a man with diplomatic immunity." "We don't know if he was telling the truth, though."

"Mike, there's a new process I forgot to tell you about. It's called asking the witnesses what happened. If they say that Constable Turnbull did not steal anything, then he did not steal anything. Wonderful logic,

don't you think?"       "Ray?"
        Ray turned to face Benton Fraser. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I

saw Turnbull in here, and he was breathing heavily, indicating that he had beed either under pressure or exercising. I was afraid that something horrible had happened." Turner glared at Fraser. "Are you a Canadian, too?"

"Yes, my name is Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father, and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture I have remained attached at liason to

the Canadian Consolate."        "Do you guys come in flocks or something?"
        "Fraser, Renfield got arrested for something he didn't do," Ray explained.

"Doesn't he have diplomatic immunity?" Fraser asked.

        "Yeah, but we just realized that a minute ago." 
        Suddenly, a loud feminine voice was heard in the hallway. "If he doesn't

say anything about your anniversary, then dump him. It's what I'd do." Turnbull gasped. "Francesca! She's back! Hide me!" He ducked under a table, which Fraser and Ray stood in front of. "Hey Ray," Francesca said as she walked by. Then she stopped and walked through the doorway.

"Fraser, what are you doing here?"      "Wel, um, I'm...I'm...discussing
the five-eighths rule for kilometers with Ray."         "Why?"
        Fraser gulped. "No real reason, really."
        Francesca rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Frase." She left the room.        Turnbull

crawled out from under the table. "Did she see me?"

"No," Fraser answered. "You can come out now."

        "So you found this backpack at the crime scene?" Ray asked.
        Jack Huey nodded. "Yeah, and it has a wallet inside."
        "The robber left his wallet?"
        "And his driver's license," Huey added.
        "HIS DRIVER'S LICENSE?"
        Meanwhile, Turner was questioning the saleslady and the cashier. "So,

you were selling Constable Turnbull the statue of the dove." "Yes."

He pointed at the cashier. "And you were told by the other guy to hand over all the money." "Yes."

        "And Constable Turnbull ran for help."
        "Yes," the saleslady replied. "I told you that a moment ago."
        "Just wanted to make sure."
        Meanwhile, Fraser and Turnbull were speaking to each other by the door

of Helena's gif shop. "My father said once," Fraser told Turnbull, "that when a man pays attention to a tree that he's passing, he will not always see the tree he's about to run into." "That was deep, Constable Fraser."

        "So are you ready for Francesca's birthday yet?" 
        Turnbull shook his head. "I still need a few things. A birthday cake,

some streamers, some balloons, a card, a Grammy-winning band, tickets to the theatre...and I still haven't bought her a present. I don't have enough money to get her everything she deserves." With that, Fraser pulled off his Stetson and pulled out some money. He handed it to Turnbull.

"Fifty toward her gift."        "Constable Fraser, I can't accept that."
        "Oh I insist."
        "No, really, I can't," Turnbull explained. "I don't think they'll take
Canadian currency."     "Ah."

A few days later, Turnbull and Francesca sat down to a candlelit dinner with an angel food cake for dessert. As Francesca sat down, she saw something sticking out from under her plate. "Renfield!" she exclaimed. She pulled the little pieces of paper out from under the table. "Tickets to the late-night movie!" Turnbull turned on the CD player, which began playing Sarah McLachlan, and picked up a box on the table. "This is also for you," he said. Francesca unwrapped the gift and slowly pulled out the dove statue. "Oh, Renfield! You shouldn't have. You must have gone through a lot to get this." Turnbull grinned. "Oh, it was nothing. Really."