I’m not really working on TINSEL RAIN full-time, yet — but the name ‘Throckmorton’ came up elsewhere, and I needed this character written down before I lost her.
I went up to one of the kids hanging around on the corner, practicing their hard looks and chewing on sticks made to look like cigarettes. Pretty soon they’ll all be teenagers and get to lounge about on the good corners, until they grow up and become sober citizens grumbling about those damn kids. Eh, well, it keeps ‘em on the streets.
“Throcky around?” I asked the one with the best sneer. You gotta do your part to encourage the younger generation. “I got a gig for her.”
“Maybe I saw her and maybe I didn’t, gumshoe,” said Kid Sneer. “What’s in it for me if I did?”
“I don’t whap you upside the head for being a wisecracker?” I said genially, and the others relaxed a little. Shamuses ask after street kids for three reasons: to hire for a job, to give ‘em a head’s-up that somebody was looking for ‘em, and to find somebody who could identify the body. I was obviously there for the first reason.