Cry Murder

Standard of California on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West invites you to let George do it. Another adventure of George Valentine. Press will notice, danger is my stock and trade.

If it's so far over your head you can't even reach it with a sky hook you got a job for me, George Valentine. Right full details. Dear Valentine, here's a laugh. A private dick falling for that screwy adiars.

The name is Joe Logan. We run across each other a couple of times, but that's not important. Here's the deal. I'm meeting somebody at the half moon motel a night. I'm not the sensitive type, but something about this rings phony.

So if you read about me in the obituary column tomorrow, I want you to cry murder. Good and loud. And close the hundred bucks for your trouble. But if you hear my sweet gravel voice over the phone before noon tomorrow, Forget the whole thing and buy yourself a drink.

Hm. Sign Joe Logan. Uh-uh. I'm not buying that, Angel. It's too pet. Joe Logan knocked off by a hit and run driver last night of all nights. Yeah, but don't forget it says here that Mr. Logan had his customary snootful when he was clipped by that car on a deserted stretch of Whitman highway.

And not too far away from the half-moon motel. Better put your ears down, Miss. Huh? Yeah. I'm gonna cry bloody murder the way my client wanted it. Good and loud. Look, Valentine, I don't want to be any social, but the only thing I've got eyes for this morning is a report just sent in.