An Anxious April Day

Being a private investigator means two things. You can be sure you'll run into trouble, and you can never be sure you'll get out of it. Not much you can do about it, I guess, except, like Julie always says.

Walk softly, Peter Troy. And now Peter Troy investigates an anxious April day. Never underestimate your enemy, said some character or other, and he was right. Taking the opposition for granted is not something I'm guilty of very often, because it's one of the dumbest things a private investigator can do.

Notwithstanding the contrary opinion of my secretary, Julie, I like to think I am as on the ball as most guys in the business. It was accordingly all the more painful, when I was caught off guard in a case that concerned a rather anxious April day.

A case that you might find a little offbeat because although it concerned this April day and took place in September, had a great deal to do with a little crumb named Pinky Thomas And his boss, a tough jerk by the name of Thaddeus Kent.

You stupid little bonhead! Hey, hey, hey, huh, boss, he was my fool. Not your fault, you had the pigs, didn't you? You picked my own Paris from my bean, didn't you? And where are they now?

I told you, boss, this girl on the train from Doug. Yes, yes, you told me, and a fat lot of help, that is. I'm all our brainer, things to do. I had to do something, I tell you.

I saw the cops waiting for me on the station. I couldn't smell a cop or a mile away, and I was right. They picked me up, didn't they? That's a pity they didn't keep you.