building and went inside.
There was a large, brightly lit Christmas tree standing in front of the broken escalators. That seemed to say something profound about our government, but I didn't stop to figure it out. I hiked up an escalator for a couple of flights, then followed the signs to the Water and Sewer Department. I stopped in front of an office midway down a dimly lit corridor. The nameplate next to it said:
Charles T. Moseby
Asst. Director
The door was open. Inside, a dwarf was sitting at a desk littered with papers.
"Excuse me," I said. "It has come to my attention that there are citizens of this Commonwealth carrying concealed weapons on their persons. To whom should I report this outrageously illegal behavior?"
Stretch looked up and grinned. "Hello, Walter. You're under arrest." He was wearing a tie, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and there was a pencil stuck behind his ear. Your typical dwarf bureaucrat.
He motioned for me to come in. "So what really brings you to the seat of power?" he asked.
I sat down opposite him. The room was surprisingly warm. I wondered how he could stand coming home to our frigid town house every night. "I'm here on business, actually," I said.
"If it's Bobby's business, Walter, I'm afraid I—"
"No, no. My own. Remember—my first case?"
"Oh, right. The search for the long-lost... whatever."
"Precisely." I hesitated. I didn't really see how this was going to achieve anything, but what did I have to lose? "I've been checking around, Stretch, and it seems that there's a possibility the guy I'm looking for got scooped by the British back when they were here maintaining law and order. They evidently felt obliged to kidnap some of our leading scientists."
Stretch nodded. "I think I heard about that. But what's it got to do with the Water and Sewer Department?"
"Absolutely nothing—except that it seems possible that somewhere in the reaches of our sainted government's archives there might be a list of who got taken. Or maybe there's some foreign service type who remembers, or who can find out. We're such good buddies with the British now, they'd probably be happy to tell us. So I thought I'd come to see my own good buddy Stretch, who knows all sorts of people in the government and maybe could help me out."
Stretch pondered. "It's a tall order," he said.
"Then you're just the man for the job."
He glared at me. "Is that a size joke?"
I smiled. "My, we're sensitive today, aren't we?"
"Anyone who lives with Linc has a right to be sensitive."
It was Linc who had started calling him Stretch. "All right, I apologize," I said. "So what do you say?"
"I guess I can look into it," he said. "If any information does exist, though, it's probably down in Atlanta, so it might take me a while to get a hold of it."
"Anything you can do, Stretch. I realize it's a long shot."
Stretch sized me up. "My services come at a price, Walter."
"Name it."
"You listen to a lecture."
I groaned. "Anything, Stretch, but not that."
"Shall I give it to you now, or do you want to wait until we get home?"
"Please, Stretch, I've suffered enough for one lifetime."
"I know, Walter. We all have. But you've got to get out of this dream world you're living in. You've got to accept the world as it is, and yourself as you are."
Except for his sensitivity about size jokes, Stretch didn't seem to let being a dwarf bother him. But it wasn't my fault he was so well adjusted. "You've got me wrong, Stretch," I replied. "I do accept the world as it is. I just think it's ready for a private eye."
"Oh, come on, Walter. You're just playing at it because you don't know what else to do with yourself. The country needs people like you—you're tough, and you're smart, and you're good. We can't afford to let you waste your life pretending it's 1937. Frankly, I'd rather see you working for Bobby Gallagher. At least what he does is real."
"People have to go it alone in this world—even more so than in the old days," I
There was a large, brightly lit Christmas tree standing in front of the broken escalators. That seemed to say something profound about our government, but I didn't stop to figure it out. I hiked up an escalator for a couple of flights, then followed the signs to the Water and Sewer Department. I stopped in front of an office midway down a dimly lit corridor. The nameplate next to it said:
Charles T. Moseby
Asst. Director
The door was open. Inside, a dwarf was sitting at a desk littered with papers.
"Excuse me," I said. "It has come to my attention that there are citizens of this Commonwealth carrying concealed weapons on their persons. To whom should I report this outrageously illegal behavior?"
Stretch looked up and grinned. "Hello, Walter. You're under arrest." He was wearing a tie, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and there was a pencil stuck behind his ear. Your typical dwarf bureaucrat.
He motioned for me to come in. "So what really brings you to the seat of power?" he asked.
I sat down opposite him. The room was surprisingly warm. I wondered how he could stand coming home to our frigid town house every night. "I'm here on business, actually," I said.
"If it's Bobby's business, Walter, I'm afraid I—"
"No, no. My own. Remember—my first case?"
"Oh, right. The search for the long-lost... whatever."
"Precisely." I hesitated. I didn't really see how this was going to achieve anything, but what did I have to lose? "I've been checking around, Stretch, and it seems that there's a possibility the guy I'm looking for got scooped by the British back when they were here maintaining law and order. They evidently felt obliged to kidnap some of our leading scientists."
Stretch nodded. "I think I heard about that. But what's it got to do with the Water and Sewer Department?"
"Absolutely nothing—except that it seems possible that somewhere in the reaches of our sainted government's archives there might be a list of who got taken. Or maybe there's some foreign service type who remembers, or who can find out. We're such good buddies with the British now, they'd probably be happy to tell us. So I thought I'd come to see my own good buddy Stretch, who knows all sorts of people in the government and maybe could help me out."
Stretch pondered. "It's a tall order," he said.
"Then you're just the man for the job."
He glared at me. "Is that a size joke?"
I smiled. "My, we're sensitive today, aren't we?"
"Anyone who lives with Linc has a right to be sensitive."
It was Linc who had started calling him Stretch. "All right, I apologize," I said. "So what do you say?"
"I guess I can look into it," he said. "If any information does exist, though, it's probably down in Atlanta, so it might take me a while to get a hold of it."
"Anything you can do, Stretch. I realize it's a long shot."
Stretch sized me up. "My services come at a price, Walter."
"Name it."
"You listen to a lecture."
I groaned. "Anything, Stretch, but not that."
"Shall I give it to you now, or do you want to wait until we get home?"
"Please, Stretch, I've suffered enough for one lifetime."
"I know, Walter. We all have. But you've got to get out of this dream world you're living in. You've got to accept the world as it is, and yourself as you are."
Except for his sensitivity about size jokes, Stretch didn't seem to let being a dwarf bother him. But it wasn't my fault he was so well adjusted. "You've got me wrong, Stretch," I replied. "I do accept the world as it is. I just think it's ready for a private eye."
"Oh, come on, Walter. You're just playing at it because you don't know what else to do with yourself. The country needs people like you—you're tough, and you're smart, and you're good. We can't afford to let you waste your life pretending it's 1937. Frankly, I'd rather see you working for Bobby Gallagher. At least what he does is real."
"People have to go it alone in this world—even more so than in the old days," I
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