"It was late when the bell to my office rang, so late my secretary had already packed up for the night. I was sitting in the dark nursing a scotch I shouldn't finish, and I wasn't expecting new business at that hour. "Come in", I drawled, expecting one of the other private detectives in the building, mooching some booze or cigars. But it wasn't one of my weather-beaten comrades, it was a striking lady, tall and wearing an suit that explained very clearly she was not to be messed with. She was about my age, older than she felt but younger than you would think based on the outfit. "Are you Private Detective Maus?" she asked, her accent somewhere between Brooklyn and the Hamptons. "Call me Saul ma'am", I replied, "have a seat."
Anything longer than that - "Could not connect to the model" error.
Here is the result:
I fixed her with my best cool and witty stare and made myself very comfortable on the edge of my desk. "Now I'm not going to lie to you Miss, I don't know how you found me, but what you are asking is illegal, by law." I nodded at my glass of scotch, "but if you are desperate I'll help you out with a small fee." She smiled at me; the least I could do after she just walked in the door on my behalf, it's a first amendment issue. "I'm not desperate, I'm looking for information on a man named Clarence Berleth. He works here as a key-keeper for a judge on the third floor. It's fairly simple, all I need is the address and phone number to the judge's office." "Berleth's not a judge, he's a private detective." "Okay, fine, then I don't need a judge's help. I just need his address and phone number so I can call him up and ask him what he's doing talking to my husband. The judge doesn't seem to know anything about this little incident. No, wait, the judge seems to be related to the situation. But I don't think it's a good
"It was late when the bell to my office rang, so late my secretary had already packed up for the night. I was sitting in the dark nursing a scotch I shouldn't finish, and I wasn't expecting new business at that hour. "Come in", I drawled, expecting one of the other private detectives in the building, mooching some booze or cigars. But it wasn't one of my weather-beaten comrades, it was a striking lady, tall and wearing an suit that explained very clearly she was not to be messed with. She was about my age, older than she felt but younger than you would think based on the outfit. "Are you Private Detective Maus?" she asked, her accent somewhere between Brooklyn and the Hamptons. "Call me Saul ma'am", I replied, "have a seat."
Anything longer than that - "Could not connect to the model" error.
Here is the result:
I fixed her with my best cool and witty stare and made myself very comfortable on the edge of my desk. "Now I'm not going to lie to you Miss, I don't know how you found me, but what you are asking is illegal, by law." I nodded at my glass of scotch, "but if you are desperate I'll help you out with a small fee." She smiled at me; the least I could do after she just walked in the door on my behalf, it's a first amendment issue. "I'm not desperate, I'm looking for information on a man named Clarence Berleth. He works here as a key-keeper for a judge on the third floor. It's fairly simple, all I need is the address and phone number to the judge's office." "Berleth's not a judge, he's a private detective." "Okay, fine, then I don't need a judge's help. I just need his address and phone number so I can call him up and ask him what he's doing talking to my husband. The judge doesn't seem to know anything about this little incident. No, wait, the judge seems to be related to the situation. But I don't think it's a good