The Two Jakes (Part 1)

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

Law-abiding Raiders fan, pet owner, Los Angeles resident.
Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

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[INTERIOR, DIM, SHADOWY OFFICE IN A SEEDY PART OF NASHVILLE]

A tall man slouches in a chair behind a desk. Sighing, he pulls open a drawer and takes out a small bottle of Benchmark Old No. 8 Boubon. He pours a healthy measure into a paper Gatorade cup and knocks it back.

[PHONE IN EXTERIOR OFFICE RINGS]

SECRETARY’S VOICE: (VIA INTERCOM) Sir, I have a Jed York on the phone for you.

PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR JAKE LOCKER: Who is this?

NORMA: It’s Norma, sir, your secretary.

LOCKER: feigns recognition) Ah yes. What is it, Norma?

NORMA: Jed York is on the phone.

LOCKER: I don’t know any Jed York.

NORMA: Sir, you were speaking to him two minutes ago. Your call was interrupted.

LOCKER: Of course. Send him in.

NORMA: It’s a phone call, sir. I’ll transfer him.

[INTERIOR PHONE RINGS, LOCKER DUCKS, THEN LOOKS AROUND IN CONFUSION BEFORE REALIZING IT IS COMING FROM HIS DESK PHONE]

LOCKER: Yello?

JED YORK: Hi Jake, it’s Jed again.

LOCKER: Jed…

YORK: York. We were just speaking.

LOCKER: York…like the peppermint patty?

YORK: Uh, yes Jake.

LOCKER: It’s been a while, Mr. York. It’s good to hear from you. You know, Mr. York, when I talk to you, I feel like I’m standing on top of a tall mountain, about to go skiing through some of the freshest powder that the Rocky Mountains have ever seen. And I feel important, too, like I’m a Congressman or a member of an important political family. What can I do for you?

YORK: Jake, I’m not sure if you’ve been keeping up with the news, but a member of our team has up and quit on us. His name is Chris Borland, and his reason for retiring is that he’s concerned about the effects of head trauma on his future health and well-being. Now Chris has only been playing professional football for a year, so I’m finding his reasoning to be a bit suspicious. He’s been examined repeatedly by doctors employed by teams who have a vested interest in seeing him get back on the field as soon as possible, and none of THEM has ever diagnosed him with a concussion, so I’m concerned that someone might have put him up to it. I want you to find out who’s behind all of this.

LOCKER: [sighs] Sorry, coach. I’m retired.

YORK: Yes, from football. But you’re a private investigator now. You have an office and everything.

LOCKER: [looks around] Well, I’ll be damned…

YORK: I’d like you to look into this for us.

LOCKER: Sure thing. My rate is $200 per day plus expenses.

YORK: Listen, we’re really strapped for cash right now. Is there any way you could cut us a deal?

LOCKER: Sorry, Mr. York, I can’t help you. My rate is $150 per day and that’s the way it’s always been, and I’m not going to change that for some poverty-stricken startup jockey.

YORK: All right, Locker, you drive a hard bargain, but we’ll find the money somewhere. [aside to assistant] Add another ten percent to the PSL fees.  You’re on the case. Let me know what you turn up.

Rikki-Tikki-Deadly
Rikki-Tikki-Deadly

Law-abiding Raiders fan, pet owner, Los Angeles resident.

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This is beautiful. Worthy of a hidden tunnel into the Playboy Mansion!

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