I waited in my office for Harrigan to call back. I cleaned my gun and sharpened a couple of pencils. Then I went to window. The fly was lying in the sill, face up. And I didn't think he was napping.
"Rest in peace, brother," I said as the phone rang. I grabbed it.
"Jake Randolph," I said.
Harrigan was all business, "The number is registered to a guy named Horace Busby at Skyview Apartments, corner of Crenshaw and West Adams."
"Has he got a rap sheet?" I asked.
"No arrests but he has unpaid parking tickets a mile high."
Christopher 10 months ago
My research is getting ridiculous. I originally had Harrigan saying "..parking tickets out the wazoo." But then I looked up the origin of that phrase and it wasn't around in the 1940s.
Neville Hunt 10 months ago
The return of the fly! Bye bye fly!
Regarding your research, Christopher, I always take whatever you write as accurate for the time setting.
Christopher 10 months ago
That one almost slipped by me. I had written that particular drabble several days ago, and it wasn't until just before I posted it that I second-guessed whether or not that phrase had been coined yet.