Swapping Lies (our next book, a true story. Feel free to comment or hit the 'like' button.). Private Eyes Don't Pay. ***by Frank Hickey*** "Benny, as a P.I., you ever get a witness asking you for money?" I ask. "Naw," he says. "I tell em 'Go sandpaper a monkey.'" "You a hard man," our boss Mr. Wade puts in. "Naw," Benny says. "I just work for one." Mr. Wade assumes a look of wounded innocence. We're sitting in Mr. Wade's World Trade Center inner office. He gazes out at New York Harbor, with charcoal tugboats cutting creamy waves. "If ya give money," Mr. Wade grunts, "that witness is ruined. ROOINT! Can't use him. Shyster lawyers'll claim we bribed him. So,no cash, baby." "Mr. Wade, in the movies, private eyes always pay for info," I say. "But this job isn't like the movies, "Never said it was," he rumbles. "I mean, you send me out on car crashes that are four years old," I say. "I canvass the site, same day and time as the accident-" "-That's right, Whiteboy," he says. "Same time, same day. We live in patterns. "Then, sweet talk 'em. Put ya tongue in their mouth." "-and if I keep at it," I say. "I always find someone who remembers the accident. Without fail. And I think-" "-Ya want more money," he roars. "Same ole funky story! I am the money tree. Come and pluck me." He scans the river again. "Nossir," I say. "I'm just saying that it amazes preppy me. "Street people agree to sit with me. Give their name, address, date of birth and phone. "Then they describe the accident. What lane the car was in, where the victim was, weather conditions, speed of the car. Takes 30 minutes, at least. And they never ask for money." "When you can get all that for free," Mr. Wade judges, "then maybe ya starting to sound like a real investigator." Benny makes a rude noise. "Early on, I took a statement from a lady on First Avenue and 26th Street," Mr. Wade recalls. "She claims to have seen our client slip and fall on the icy sidewalk. I took down her statement as she chain-smoked. "Then I noticed something funny," he continues. "She was smoking two cigarettes at the same time. "One in each hand. When she rose up, she was carrying three handbags. She left me and walked right inta Bellevue Hospital Receiving." "She's UBATTS," Benny judges. "Crazy." Mr. Wade utters his mantra. "Everybody crazy, baby," he mutters. "Maybe she knew my guy," Benny interrupts. "I took his statement last month. He said that it was raining heavy but the ground was dry." ***Frank Hickey*** Somehow, Frank became a detective. He writes the Dancing Max Royster crime stories about the world's only ballroom dancing detective at frankhickey.net Get link Facebook X Pinterest Email Other Apps September 11, 2026 Read more