Swapping Lies (my next book) Chapter 12, Kid Canvass, Private Eye *** by Frank Hickey***. "Ya gotta do a canvass," my private eye boss grunts. "That's when you come up on New Yorkers, out of nowhere," he says. "And you say, 'POLLY VOO? didja see this happen? Did ya hear this happen? What's the word on the street? "Do they HAVE to answer you?" I ask. "No," he says. "That's where your charm comes in. "Where you make them WANT to tell you," he says. "It's a skill. Ask any salesman. Politician. Or fancy-man Sweet Daddy Mack pimp. Can't be taught. Go do it.". "I'm just 22, thick glasses, no gun or car, working under your private eye license," I protest. "Not if you can't canvass," he grunts."I'll fire you and hire someone who can." This seems clear. So, I sally forth and try to canvass. "Excuse me, sir," I say to a busy pedestrian. "I'm checking on a little fender-bender, happened near here." "When?" he asks. "Three years ago, in April," I say. His face changes. "Are you crazy?" he asks. My boss offers no help. "Everybody's crazy, Hickey," he rumbles. One night, in a thunderstorm, I canvass a decrepit building. A woman, wild-eyed, with frizzy white hair, rips the door open. "All day, every day!" she hollers. "They run, upstairs, downstairs, make noise, come home, drinka da whiskey, fall down dead!". ***Frank Hickey. If today looks a bit grim and you need to laugh, why not view frankhickeystories.blogspot.com? (The question mark is optional.). ***Frank was a kid private eye. He became a cop. Somehow. He writes the Dancing Max Royster crime novels about the world's only ballroom dancing detective.