THE PURLOINED PANTIES An Erotic Detective Adventure “I’m sorry; did you say fur lined panties?” I said to the caller on the telephone. “No. I said purloined panties. Somebody has been stealing our panties. Let me start over. My name is Sally Harwell. I am the house mother for the Alpha Beta Gimmel sorority. We would like to retain you to investigate a series of thefts we have had at our house. Someone has been stealing our panties.” “Nothing else? Are you sure it is not a fraternity prank?” I asked. "I don't know what's going on. My students are upset. We don't want to call the police if it's just a prank, but we need help." Mrs. Harwell gave me the address, though I thought I knew where the house was. I said I would be there in a few minutes. My name is Petra Jameson. I am a private investigator. It's April, 1970. I'm twenty-eight. I got my degree from Cal State Fullerton and worked for the Orange County Marshal's Office until I took a bullet in my hip. I tried to come back after rehab, but I was told that my injury was too much of a factor. I wondered whether a man would have had the same problem. I was tall and athletic. I worked out at the gym owned by my best friend and roommate Sheila. I knew I was well built and attractive in an Amazon sort of way. I was married and divorced. My ex husband was an Anaheim cop. We remained good friends. My office was on Chapman in Fullerton just off the Orange Freeway. I sublet from several attorneys who were a source of some revenue. The ABG house was about a mile away on Dorothy Lane. I got in my '68 Barracuda and cranked up KRLA on the radio. They were playing "Maybe I'm Amazed" off of Paul McCartney's first solo album. A few minutes later I was parking outside the sorority house. Mrs. Harwell met me at the door. She looked nothing like the matronly house mother I expected. I guess that's my fault for stereotyping. She was average height and trim. I guessed her age to be in the mid forties. Her dark hair was stylish. Her smile was disarming. "Hi," she said showing me in. "I'm Sally Harwell, but please call me 'Sissy." I followed her inside to the dining table. I declined her offer of coffee. Two students were in the living room studying. It was pretty quiet. "Over the past month three times one of the students has had their panties stolen. No bras or anything of particular value, just panties. At first they thought one of the older girls was playing a joke, but now no one knows what to think. The last theft was yesterday and the girls are unnerved. Finals are a few weeks away and this is a great distraction.' We talked fees. I told Sissy that I wanted to interview the three students who were victims of the panties thief. She said she would try to set something up. She had the class schedules and would call me later after confirming with the girls. I asked her to show me around. The house was a typical tract home, but there had been some room additions. There were five bedrooms, each with two beds, plus the master bedroom. The master bedroom was used by Sissy as an office and a bedroom. There was a pool in the backyard. "Who takes care of the pool?" I asked. "We have a pool man. He is older and reliable. We have a lawn service. There are no other outside persons employed," she responded. "What are the rules about boys?" I asked. "They are allowed in the entry area only," "How frequently is that rule broken?" "Occasionally, I am sure. But if I catch someone they could lose residency privileges." I smiled to myself reflecting upon my college days. Sissy must have caught something in my look. “Yeah, I know. When I was in college I would have been sneaking boys in too,” she said. I went back to my office and thought about the case. I did not want to take it lightly. Clearly was concerned enough to take action. I thought about my college days. The school was in the middle of a growth spurt. What had been Orange County State College became Cal