Free Detective by Parnell Hall

school in upstate New York. The school had been Leroy’s salvation. He had done so well there that when he emerged he got a scholarship to N.Y.U. He majored in fine arts, and by the time he graduated he had developed a taste for the finer things in life which, unfortunately, he was unable to afford. And so he had taken his street education and college education, and managed to combine his talents.
    In the end, I crossed out the word “electrician” on the fact sheet and wrote in the word “thief,” assuring Leroy it would make no difference and, sure enough, Richard took the case.
    It took Leroy less than thirty seconds to open the door to Albrect’s apartment. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting the two of us into the building, and I must say it encouraged me considerably to find out I was able to do it.
    Here’s what I did.
    After I called Leroy, I hunted up a candy store, bought a Whitman Sampler, and had it gift-wrapped. Then I went back to the office, found a summons I'd been given to serve, and went out and had it Xeroxed. I bought a bottle of Liquid Paper, the red one “for copies,” and whited out the name and address of the defendant on the summons. Then I Xeroxed it again. I took the new copy and typed in the name “Ruth Goldstein” and the address of Albrect’s apartment house. Then I Xeroxed that. The end result was a pretty official-looking summons.
    I met Leroy in front of Albrect’s building and gave him the Whitman Sampler. Leroy had dressed down for the occasion, in jeans and a T-shirt. The jeans looked a bit new for the part, and I couldn’t help wondering if they were something Leroy had had in some drawer but had never worn, or whether he had rushed out and bought them after I called.
    I went in first. The lobby was empty, and the doorman gave me his full attention. After all, I was wearing my suit.
    “Yes?” he said.
    “I have a delivery for Ruth Goldstein.”
    “Your name, sir.”
    “Stanley Hastings.”
    The doorman called up on the house phone and relayed the information. “She doesn’t know you,” he said.
    I raised my voice. “I’m an officer of the Supreme Court of the State of New York. I have a summons for Mrs. Goldstein.”
    The house phone immediately began making squawking noises. It was still squawking when Leroy strolled in with the Whitman Sampler.
    “Package for Lisa Hartman,” he announced.
    The doorman, still listening on the phone, said, “I’ll take it,” and held out his hand.
    “Hell you will, bro,” Leroy said. “I ain’t gettin’ done outa ma tip.”
    To be honest, Leroy’s attempt at talking jive left a little bit to be desired, but I wasn’t about to complain, and the doorman wasn’t about to notice.
    The doorman was overmatched. Leroy and the Supreme Court might not have intimidated him, but Mrs. Goldstein sure did. The beleaguered man waved Leroy on up, so he could give her his full attention.
    After considerable negotiation, I went up, too. I’d known I would. In the long run, Mrs. Goldstein just had to find out what it was all about.
    I hadn’t stuck around while she found out what it was all about, since I knew damn well that as soon as she turned to page two she was going to discover she was being sued for owning a building on Patchen Avenue in Brooklyn where someone had fallen down and broken their wrist due to a faulty riser on the stair. I had signed that case myself, and from what I remembered of the neighborhood, I was sure Mrs. Goldstein wouldn’t have been caught dead anywhere near Patchen Avenue in Brooklyn, so I made damn sure I was out of sight around the corner of the corridor before she got to the second page.
    Moments later, I joined Leroy in front of Albrect’s door, Leroy clicked the lock back, stood up, smiled, and said, “There you are.”
    “I really appreciate this, Leroy,” I told him. “Could I compensate you for helping me out?”
    Leroy held up his hand, palm out. “That will not be