Matson49-09-3015The Devil In The Deep Freeze

Hello, you can't do 8209. Yes, this is Candy Matson. You got an old corpse kicking around, you one identified? No of any good murders you want solved? We've got just the girl for you. Her name is Candy Matson.

Might a cue too. She fills out a size 12 suit to jump the right proportions. Soft, blonde hair, two sparkling blue eyes, and all in all she looks as though she might have stepped right off of a vodka calendar.

And what's more, she's a private eye. You scoff? You ridicule? I'll let you see for yourselves. Listen, she's talking on the phone right now. Hello, Candy Matzen. Hello, Miss Matzen. I'm afraid you don't know me.

That makes it even. You don't know me. Let's go from there. I've read about you in the papers, Miss Matzen. You handle confidential cases. That's right. However, there's a little matter of a fee involved.

Yes, yes, I know. I can pay. That's item number one now to item number two. What's the confidential case? I can't possibly tell you on the phone miss Martin. I said it was confidential Okay, where do you want to talk? I am the proprietor of a restaurant the Charlin in North Beach Oh, yeah, I ate their one. Oh, that's nice. No, it wasn't. I didn't like the food

However, I'll overlook it you want to talk about an hour that will be fine miss Matt's good and your name would be Okay, Mr. Martinello, and have some ink in your can. It costs money just to talk.

I've probably sounded rough and commercial, but you have to be in this racket. Most people look in a private eye as a musician. They invite you to a party and expect you to bring your heart for free. But uh-uh, I learned the hard way a long time ago. So now they pay in advance and take their chances later. That's the way it was with this Martinello.