I’ll ache and moan and bitch about it, but what do I have that I didn’t deserve in some way. It’s not the clients I let down, though there’s plenty of ‘em to last me for a couple of years. And it’s not some jaded morality that I pretend to have. Some kind of what comes around goes around bull that’s just aping the history of the world, the cycle of the sun, whatever. No, it’s because I’m not the sharpest guy, and it bites me in the butt more often than I bite it. I don’t like pretending I’m someone I’m not. So if I have to take a few licks for it, well, that’s okay by me.
But in the meantime, I’m going to use my quota of complaints.
After five minutes I start feeling wet behind my ears, literally. I pull the cloth off and wring it tight over the sink. I promised Hank I’d call him. What time is it? 8:10. Time enough.
I shamble to the telephone and dial Hank’s number, but the switchboard picks up. Hank’s out on assignment. I say thanks and hang up. Avery’s supposed to call me at 8:30, so I hunker down on the floor and start perusing the papers I abandoned last night. My mind’s in much better shape this morning. Stuff makes more sense.
I pick up a folder labeled “Contract File #388922-113b – State/Villig & Hennessey – June 14, 1952″ and open it. It’s not too thick, about half an inch, and the first sheet is a cover letter from Villig’s office to the New Jersey state office. It’s a thank you note for the contract award acquisition. Nothing here. Next page looks like a copy of a purchase request, with a paperclip holding on acquisition planning notes in loose leaf. Acquisition of what? This is going to be hell to go through alone. I always hated the bookwork. That’s the worst part of this private dick business. That’s something they don’t tell you about in books and movies. We do paperwork like Reds do wholesale slaughter. Not as much as the cops, but more than they give us credit for.
Of course, if you’re me, you’d rather be cocking steel against a bastard’s liver. Hell, that’s anybody. Anybody in this business, at least. It sure would be nice to have some help sorting through this paperwork though. I think of Frannie, Frannie who beats anyone at punching holes in the switchboard, routing calls like I piss people off, which is to say more than the average joe. I wonder