"Jake Randolph Origins" drabbles by Christopher
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 9
Jake Randolph Origins #9
Todd Silver Properties was one of the premier real estate agencies in the whole of Southern California. It was started by Todd's father, Phillip, and he named it after his son with the intention that Todd would take over the business one day. That day came shortly after Todd graduated from college when the old man had a heart attack. He survived but had to cut his career short, so Todd dutifully stepped in. I always wondered what it was like to have your whole life mapped out for you by your parents without having a say of your own...
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 8
Jake Randolph Origins #8
So, the Jake Randolph Private Detective Agency would have one employee: me.
I purchased the trench coat, fedora, and gun, a .38-caliber Colt Detective Special. I didn't choose it because it had the word "detective" in it, however. I picked that particular model because it had a short, or snub-nosed, barrel and favored concealment and maneuverability over power and range.
The last thing on the list was an office. It wouldn't have looked very professional to use my dinky little apartment in Glendale, so I looked up an old friend from high school that was in real estate...
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 7
Jake Randolph Origins #7
So, while my buddy Harrigan spent months going through the rigors of the police academy, I researched what it took to be a private detective. I started with Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon. According to pulp fiction, all you needed to be a detective was a trench coat, a fedora, a gun, an office, and a mousy, gum-chewing secretary with horn-rimmed glasses on a chain.
I checked my budget. The trench coat, fedora, and gun were attainable. And I could probably get an office if the rent was reasonable. But there was no money left for an employee...
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 6
Jake Randolph Origins #6
I met Harrigan for lunch one day at the Bluebird Diner in downtown L.A. We'd been home about two weeks at that point. Harrigan was contemplating going to the police academy and becoming an L.A. cop. If he did become a cop the first thing he needed to do was bust the cook at the Bluebird for attempted murder.
"What about you?" Harrigan asked. "Care to join me?"
"As a cop? No thanks, pal. I'd do better as a private detective."
"A private dick, huh?" he said. "That's a good idea. You're already a public one."
"You're all heart, Harrigan."
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 5
Jake Randolph Origins #5
I couldn't really decide what I wanted to do after the war. The G.I. Bill said I could go to college and my dear ole' Uncle Sam would pay for it. But I was too old at 23 to be going back to the halls of academia. And when you've lived two-and-a-half years waltzing with the Grim Reaper and stepping on his toes at every turn, it's a bit difficult to sit in a lecture taking notes and chewing gum.
That still left the question unanswered: what was a 23-year-old war veteran going to do?
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 4
Jake Randolph Origins #4
By the time Hitler was nothing more than a pile of ashes and Hiroshima and Nagasaki went radioactive, I ended my Army career as a sergeant; Harrigan ended his as a master sergeant. I never really understood the difference in rank, but Harrigan was quick to point out that I "didn't need to know," I only needed to "follow orders." And following orders was never my strong suit. I was always getting into trouble, but I made up for it with acts of ridiculous bravery, which is the only reason I didn't end as a private just like I started...
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 3
Jake Randolph Origins #3
I never realized just how much I would miss the good ole' U.S. of A. when they shipped me overseas, leading up to storming the beach at Normandy and being one of the lucky ones that lived through it. I almost didn't, though. I would've died right there if it hadn't been for Pfc. Jim Harrigan, who slapped my face when I choked and hit the sand, telling me to get my ass up and start running or he'd shoot me himself.
So I ran with Harrigan. Actually, all through the war we ran together, always saving each other's lives...
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 2
Jake Randolph Origins #2
I saw a woman dressed like a nurse lean over me. Then I realized there was good reason why she was dressed like a nurse. She was a nurse. She was putting an IV in my arm. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but couldn't.
It was only then that I felt a pain in my chest. Then I remembered: I was shot earlier that evening. And the man that pulled the trigger was a man that had shot me 17 years before that, in 1945. As I floated into unconsciousness my mind floated back to the past...
Jake Randolph: Origins Pt. 1
Jake Randolph Origins #1
All I could see were lights zooming by as I stared straight up. I was lying on my back, but I was in motion. There was a lot of commotion. People were around me. Everything was white.
I heard someone off in the distance say, "Get him prepped for surgery. Now!"
What was going on? I thought.
I felt like I was in a bad episode of The Twilight Zone. I expected to see Rod Serling pop up any moment and say, "Jake Randolph, private detective. A man on a collision course with a signpost that reads The Twilight Zone."
