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on the level. Can you call me backtomorrow around
noon?’ Frank’s faced lighted up, ‘Sure, mister, any-
thing you say. Right on the dot.’

“He started down the driveway. As he got to the
gate, I called out, ‘By the way, Frank, I didn’t get
your last name.’ ‘Jackson,’ he yelled back, plainly
caught unaware. He turned on his heels. A scowl
crossed his face. I put on my best smile and said,
“Okeh, Frank, see you tomorrow.” That seemed to
reassure him.

“As soon as he was out of sight I headed for the
telephone book and found the name I wanted, Mrs.
Carl Jackson. I hadn’t counted on that. I thought at
least I'd be able to talk to a man. Instead I was
convinced I was going to have to go into this dis-
gusting business with an hysterical widow.

“I contrived some excuse to get Mrs. Jackson to
_visit me at my office. True, she was a widow. But
far from hysterical. For months she had suspected
something was wrong with her son. She knew he
wasn’t earning all the spending money he had at the
odd jobs he'd claimed he was doing. She even
checked a few out and confronted him. The answers
were evasive.

“She was horrified at my suggestion that he was
part of a ring of male prostitutes, but since my facts