The Referral Game

and stared at back at her trying to match her on placid demeanor. My head began to throb and I shut my eyes tightly for a minute as the pain washed over me. When I opened my eyes she was gone.
    I poured myself a drink out of the bottle I kept in my desk, took a pull and stared at the back at the board. I was still doing both when I heard a man clear his throat.
    “ Mr. Randall?”
    I looked up to find a tall thin man standing in the doorway. The office was dim from the approaching dusk. I hadn’t had the overhead light on during the day and the harsh light from the hallway silhouetted the man against it. It gave him a curious halo effect. But the face was hidden; it could have been anyone. For some reason the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Sometimes this office building gets to me at night when I’m all alone in it. Kid stuff, walking over your grave kind of stuff. I don’t know what got into me, but I realized that I hadn’t answered him when he asked again.
    “Mr. Randall?”
    “Yeah, I’m Randall. Excuse me. You caught me a bit off guard,” I replied. “Would you get the lights? It’s on the wall to your right.”
    He flipped the switch and the room sprang into view. Instead of a sinister dark figure, I saw him as he was, man in a gray suit with a gray vest and a gray bow tie. Bill said he was fifty, but he looked like an old fifty. His pale face was craggy with a large reddish nose and thin lips. His eyes under his black frame glasses were red rimmed and a watery brown. As he strode forward to the desk I noticed that he walked with a slight stoop that made him lean forward and seem anxious. His hair was gray on the side with the most preposterous brown toupee I had ever seen. It screamed rug. Why can’t some guys just except that they were balding? Everybody he knew must have wanted to tell him how silly he looked. But I’ll bet no one ever did.
    As he reached my desk he stuck out his hand and announced: “I’m Edgar Pomeroy. I believe I have an appointment.”
    I rose and grasped his outstretched hand. It was large, but without strength or calluses. This man had never done a days labor in his life.
    “Yes Mr. Pomeroy I was expecting you. Or is it Dr. Pomeroy? In any case have a seat,” I said pointing to either of the two chairs facing my desk.
    He chose the one on the left and sat down.
    “I am a Ph.D.,” he admitted. “But Dr. Pomeroy seems to make people nervous so please, let’s do without it. The only worse title is Professor. Once folks hear that they are convinced you’re an old fossil who has spent his entire life with your nose in a book.”
    Since that was exactly what I had been thinking I broke his gaze and shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
    “Besides,” he continued. “I’m only a poor Professor Emeritus. It’s a fancy way for the university to say ‘Don’t come to work anymore.’”
    “What can I do for you, Mr. Pomeroy?” I asked to get back on track.
    “Well it’s somewhat embarrassing and personal. I need to be assured of discretion.”
    “I’m not a priest Mr. Pomeroy. Testimony can be forced from a private investigator, but only in a grand jury or a court trial. Other than that I can promise anything you tell me, or that I discover while acting as your agent, will remain private in the absence of a criminal act.”
    “That seems reasonable,” he said. “Detective Vinson told me you were a man to be trusted.”
    “Is Bill a personal friend?”
    “No, not really. Mother became aquatinted with his mother many years ago. They met on the board of one of Mother’s charities and became friends of sorts.”
    I knew Bill’s family was well connected, if not terribly wealthy. He had told me of their disappointment with his career choice during our days as partners. When he had gone to college it was assumed that he would study law and enter the family firm. But law had seemed to dull and distant to Bill, so he had earned his law degree he skipped the bar exam and joined the police.
    It’s just that I didn’t know whom else to turn to for help,” he continued. “I’m not what you would call a man of the world. And discussing my private affairs with strangers, no matter how well recommended, is distressing to me.”
    I could see he was going to need a kick-start if we were to get anywhere. So I broke in: “If it will help Mr. Pomeroy, Det. Vinson sketched some of it out for me. As I understand it you want me to locate your ex-wife, one Paula Wray,