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Updated: May 24, 2025
The Tri-State Interscholastic League, which encouraged the practice of all imaginable digressions from school-books, had arranged for a series of chess games between teams selected from the different academies. The winners of these preliminary heats, if one can use so calm a word for so exciting a game, were to meet at Troy and play for the championship of the League.
Carter Tipton had his law-office on the floor above the Tri-State Detective Agency. He handled all Rand's not infrequent legal involvements, and Rand did all his investigating and witness-chasing; annually, they compared books to see who owed whom how much. Tipton was about five years Rand's junior, and had been in the Navy during the war.
"This is Gus Olsen, investigator for the D.A.'s office. Jeff Rand; Tri-State Agency," he introduced. "Hey!" Olsen yelled. "We been lookin' for you! Where you been?" Rand raised an eyebrow at McKenna. "You just came from where we're going," the State Police sergeant surmised. "Was Gresham at home?" "He was; he's gone now," Rand said.
The principal result of this outcry was to persuade an important New Belfast manufacturer, who had hitherto resisted Rand's sales pressure, to contract with the Tri-State Agency for the protection of his payroll deliveries.
During the war, he and Kathie had kept the Tri-State Agency in something better than a state of suspended animation while Rand had been in the Army. Ritter fumbled a Camel out of his shirt pocket and made a beeline for the desk, appropriating Rand's lighter and sharing the flame with Kathie.
"Terms of the will. Oh, well, Geraldine'll drink herself to death in a few years, and Nelda will elope with a prize-fighter, sometime." "Why don't you have the house haunted? The Tri-State Agency has an excellent house-haunting department. Anything you want; poltergeists; apparitions; cold, clammy hands in the dark; footsteps in the attic; clanking chains and eldritch screams; banshees.
After a day or two of this glory, however, they became fellow-citizens with the rest of the villagers, and were content to sit around the club-room and tell stories of the grand old days when the Lakerim Athletic Club had no club-house to cover its head the days when they fought so hard for admission to the Tri-State Interscholastic League of Academies.
How far and deep the influence of those Journals reached is beyond computation. In the fall of 1910 the State association joined the Tennessee Equal Suffrage Association in a booth at the Tri-State Fair in Memphis.
"Swell, swell!" McKenna enthused. "Maybe we can pass the case off on the War Crimes Commission." Mick McKenna had put his finger right on the sore spot. It did hurt Rand like hell; a nice, sensational murder and no money in it for the Tri-State Agency. Obviously, somebody would have to be persuaded to finance an investigation.
"That's what I thought he said." Rand recognized the singsong accent he had heard on the phone. "You know him?" "Know him?" McKenna stepped aside quickly, to avoid being overrun by the two privates with the equipment-box. He sighed resignedly. "Aarvo, this is the notorious Jefferson Davis Rand. Tri-State Agency, in New Belfast." He gestured toward the Finn.
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