Mr Jones

This is another short vignette featuring characters from my book, Where Fools Dare to Tread. To me it’s a fun way to introduce the characters and add a little something extra you won’t find in the book.

Monk Buttman, Hard-Boiled Private Dick

Mr. Jones is an associate of Monk’s in the loosest sense of the word. They were thrown together in the search for Desiree Marshan.Sincethen,they’vebecomefriendsofakind.

We were stuck in traffic, somewhere between West Covina and Long Beach. No doubt the signs would say where, but I’d lost interest in that. Jones was on his phone. The sun beat down on us in what had to be one hundred degree heat as we sat in my ’64 Ford Falcon. The top was down.

“I gotta ask…” I was tapping on the side of the car.

“Ask what?” Jones put his phone down.

“Aren’t you hot? It’s hotter than hell and you’re wearing nothing but black! Shirt. Tie. Suit. Sweat’s running off your head.” I could feel the sweat as it beaded across his shaved pate.

“It’s a state of mind, Buttman,” was his answer.

“A state of mind?”

“Are you deaf?”

“No.”

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