They walked on to the Municipal Building. Entering through the main door, they walked up to the third floor. In the back corner of the floor sat the land office, a small room that was packed to near capacity with piles of paper. Its sole occupant was a clerk who maintained the records of who owned what within the town and the nearby region.
The clerk, a bored, spectacled old man, glanced in their direction as they entered. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked in a brusque manner, not looking up from his work.
“Yes, sir,” Williams replied, “at least I hope so. We’re looking for information regarding Mr. Terrance Williams. We were wondering if you might know where we might find him.”
The clerk looked up from the paperwork in front of him. “Do I look like a tour guide?” he asked testily. “I don’t give directions.”
“We aren’t looking for directions,” Williams countered. “We simply wish to locate him. We have an important matter to discuss with him.”
“If the matter is so important,” the clerk responded, “why didn’t he tell you how to get to his estate?”
“He doesn’t realize that we’re seeking him,” Williams answered, “and we tried twice to catch up with him. Both times, he moved too quickly for us.”
“Well,” the clerk said, “you should learn to move a little more quickly yourself. If he’s not interested in telling you how to locate him, I’m not terribly interested in helping you, either.”
“Please, sir,” Roderick broke in, “it’s imperative that you help us. We must find this man and find him soon.”
1 comment:
Stop, you sound like my mom. "Don't grow up too fast." I know, I just don't like it.
Post a Comment