"Jake Randolph," I said as I picked up the receiver.
"Jakey?" a scared voice asked from another dimension.
I knew it was Milton Dunn.
"Lemme guess, Milton," I said in a matter-of-fact tone, "you're on the run from the police who are seeking to question you about the murder of Paige Turner. You're hiding in a crap hole somewhere and want me to drop what I'm doing and come to your rescue and help clear your miserable name. That about the size of it, buddy?"
There was silence on the other end.
"Damn," Milton finally said, "you're good!"