I miss your story about the gumshoe detective from the 1940s.

"Don't get smart with me Martie. I want the details, and I want 'em now." Artie grimaced as he shown the light on his suspect.

"I ain't given 'em to you. Not even if you beg." Martie squirmed to get the light out of his eyes, but smirked nonetheless, knowing he caught this "Private Eye" in his own game. 'Private Eye?' He thought... 'More like Private Shmuck. The man couldn't even convince a monkey to give out information.'

Artie placed his hands into his zoot suit pockets. "I didn't want to tell you this Martie, but if you don't give me the details, I got no choice. Your wife, Sherry, she's on her way." 

"On her way here? Great! She'll call the cops on ya and have you arrested." Martie wriggled his fingers, trying to loosen the rope that tied his hands. "Who employed you anyways?"

"She ain't on her way here." Artie slapped Martie's head. "Don't be a numbskull. She's on her way to the University of Chigago."

"What's she doing going to a University? They ain't got nothin' there for her." Martie struggled some more, sick of these shenanigans. He had a family to get back to; Tommy, his little boy was counting on him.

"She's leavin' you Martie. She wants to get an education, get a job, make her own way in society. Says she wants to work for woman's rights." Artie moved around, flashing the light back into Martie's eyes.

"You're lyin'." Martie spat the words, shaking his head. There was no way Sherry would do this to him, especially since he'd gone so far-

"Details Martie!" Artie slapped the table in front of his suspect. He was done playing good cop. It was now or never.

"Alright, alright I'll speak. But only if you stop with filling my head with these lies about my Sherry."

Artie grinned. He knew he'd get his man to speak; he always did.

The End

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