after sarah left, lawyer jones took a bottle out of his desk drawer and poured himself a good stiff drink and knocked it back.
the papers relating to “the case”, which he had taken out of his safe, were still on top of his desk. he picked them up and started to head back to the safe. but then he thought that the detective, or investigator, or whoever or whatever he hired to look into “the case” might want to look at them, so he just put them into the top drawer of the desk. he told himself to remember to lock the desk when he left.
he looked at the bottle, resisted temptation with a sigh, and put the bottle back into the desk.
he wondered if he still had time to get in some fishing. but since he had to wonder, he probably did not. he would just get out to the lake and get comfortable, and the sun would start going down.
he turned his mind back to “the case”. so sarah wanted him to find “the cheapest son of a bitch he could find”. all right , he would make an honest attempt to do so. suddenly it occurred to him - “the cheapest son of a bitch he could find” might be himself.
but maybe not.
and as for finding something new to reopen the case, there probably was no such thing in the world.
what new thing could there be, after all this time?
jonathon took the yellow pages for the state capital out of the bottom drawer of his desk. the bottle of whiskey was in the top drawer so he did not have to look at it and resist temptation..
he opened the yellow pages to “detectives”. he had hired detectives before - usually for clients who were willing to pay for them. he immediately noticed familiar names in the listings and in the advertisements which took up most of the space on the pages.
but these familiar names - including that of his old buddy rich talworth - would not meet sarah’s criteria of “the cheapest son of a bitch he could find’”.
then he noticed something that had never really registered before - under the heading “detectives” there appeared in smaller print - “see also investigators”.
investigators! who would not even call themselves detectives - those must be the cheap sons of bitches!
there were only four “investigators” listed. two of them had small advertisements assuring the potential client of their value. the other two only had their numbers and addresses listed, though one of them - peter fox , had “private investigations” after his name.
the fourth one was just “m mandragore”. no description , just a number and address. that had to be the cheapest one of all.
then jonathon noticed something else - m mandragore’s address was not in the city but right here in jamestown!
the address - 450 rogers st - that would be right over by dave richard’s car lot. jonathon could walk over.
he decided to walk over, get a little fresh air - since he couldn’t go fishing - stop by first at cassie’s diner for a cup of coffee.
but first he better call and make sure m mandragore was available.
he gave the operator the number and she put him through and the call was answered on the second ring.
“m mandragore investigations” said a sleepy female voice. sounded young, jonathon could not be sure.
“this is attorney jonathon jones, over on main street. would it be convenient for me to come over right now?”
“sure, come on over, ” the sleepy voice answered.
sure, come on over. not the bright polite answer jonathon would expect his own secretary to give. and she did not even check with the mysterious m mandragore. but what could you expect from the cheapest son of a bitch you could find?
“i’ll be back before five,” jonathon told his secretary betty as he took his hat from the rack and opened the door.
betty nodded, without looking up from her copy of the american mercury magazine.
45 rogers st was a two story wooden building directly across from dave richard’s back lot. the first floor was occupied by a tire dealer. what looked like offices were on the second floor, with small signs in the windows jonathon didn’t bother trying to read. he figured m mandragore must be one of them.
when he entered he saw a small sign beside the stairs - “mandragore investigations - number 4.”
jonathon was in a good mood after fortifying himself with a cup of coffee and a slice of lemon pie at cassie’s and getting some fresh air on his walk over. this might be amusing, he thought.
he went up the stairs. there were three doors with small windows labeled 2, 3, and 4 and he rapped on number 4 and the voice from the phone called “it’s open.”
a skinny blonde girl sat behind a big desk, with a big fat old book opened in front of her. as jonathon got closer to the desk he saw she was not as young as he first thought - and she looked kind of tired. she was wearing a cheap print dress - not at all smart or professional looking - and she wore a little blue flower behind her left ear, which jonathon thought looked very low class indeed. he wondered if she was wearing shoes.
“you must be mister attorney jones,” the not so young girl said. she made no move to get up. or to open the unmarked door behind her. “have a seat.”
jonathon looked down at the chair she had indicated. the truth dawned on him, but he asked anyway, just to be sure.
“is mr mandragore in?”
“i am m mandragore.”
“of course,” jonathon smiled and sat down.
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