Mack Irby stopped his two-finger typing and leaned back in the creaky
swivel chair to light himself a cigarette. This was the only part of
his job that he really hated, making reports. He'd rather tail a wife
for her husband or a husband twelve hours straight than spend the half
hour writing up a report on the activities of the suspected spouse.
Whenever possible he talked a client into settling for verbal reports,
but it wasn't always possible to get a client to agree to that. Some of
them insisted on having words on paper for their money.
His dream was to have enough men under him so he could afford a
stenographer-bookkeeper to take down the reports as dictation--he
wouldn't mind talking them--and to take care of sending out and paying
bills and the rest of the paper work. He wouldn't even insist that his
office help be young and pretty--God, he had all the sex he wanted or
needed with Dolly. He'd settle for anybody who could type.
But it seemed as though even this modest dream was a long way from
coming true. He did all right for himself, one way or another (some of
them not too honest) but strictly as a lone wolf operator. True, he had
connections with other detective outfits that let him farm out work at
times when he had more than he could handle alone, but he'd never had
even one operative working under him full time. He'd never get rich,
but most of the time he thought it was best that way; when you work
alone you can cut corners you wouldn't take the risk of telling someone
else to cut for you. So in all probability the nearest he'd ever have
to office help was what he had already, a telephone answering service.
That was an absolute must, since he spent so little of his working time
actually in the office; he couldn't have operated without it.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette, put it down on the edge of his
desk, already scarred by a hundred cigarette burns, and went back to
his typing. "Subject entered Crillon Bar at 3:15, looked around first,
then went to the bar and ordered a drink. Talked, apparently casually,
to the bartender while he drank it, but kept an eye on the door as
though waiting for someone. At 3:25 the woman already described in
previous report entered. She nodded to him and went to a booth. He
joined her there and ordered drinks for both of them. At 3:47 he--"