The Judge and the Champ

I wonder, Regent, my leave at tomorrow's column. Not at the door. Hold the line, Barry, while I see who it is. Look, I told you, it's no use coming here. You just waste me your time.

My life's too short. Pray. Confidential investigator. Starring William Gargam. Barry Craig speaking. It was one of those nights.

I was sitting in my office with my feet hooked on the corner of my desk. Trying to whip up some enthusiasm over an assignment to bodyguard a couple of tears. and copied parts of the long island wedding when they telephoned right.

I let it ring a few times before I reached out and snagged all its hook. After all, when they're that anxious they can be mighty worthwhile. Yeah, who's this? Al White, McClellan. Right, sure. How's the gossip column record these days?

Four minutes. I've been reading that column of yours. Those cracks you've been making about Larry Slade throwing the big fight they can't have made him very happy. I hear he's looking for you. You keep printing that Slade took a dive and you're more likely to need an undertaker.

I was right about it wasn't I? Sometimes there's something better to be eaten right. Such as? Alive. Something you're not likely to be if you keep needing Slade. He's big and sensitive. My heart bleeds for it.

Where do I start guarding the body? The cat... It wasn't the kind of case I'd like, but a private detective is like a doctor or a lawyer. He can't always pick and choose. Anyway, a few minutes short of midnight, I parked the car outside the Casa Daily.

It was an old white frame building that they stayed in, converted into a plush boob trap. One of those joints where if they don't get your roll with the fancy prices at the bar, they got the back rooms all rigged up with blue left wheels and trap tables where they do.