Play@YSDC

Delores stops at a phone booth in the subway station and calls the city desk. She has no assignments for tonight or tomorrow -- a free day! And she can get home in time for supper at the boarding house, although Saturday night's usually some kind of goulash made from the week's leftovers. Still, it's already paid for.

Despite the shower of rain that threatens to ruin her hair, Delores is still in high spirits by the time she gets home. She shouts a 'hello' to Mrs Woznizcka and heads up the stairs to her apartment. Shutting the door on the smell of goulash, she drops the books on her bed and hangs her coat on the hook behind the door.

She spots a letter from home that has been pushed under her door and she quickly opens it & attempts to read it while touching up her make-up and re-setting her hair. Strangely homesick for the family atmosphere brought into sharp focus by her mother's letter, Delores heads downstairs to give Mrs Woznizcka a hand with setting the table for tonight's meal. She listens as the old Polish lady chatters about friends and neighbours, their good points and their foibles as she polishs cutlery and puts out the plates.

When Mrs Woznizcka gives her the nod, she strikes the oriental gong in the hallway that summons the guests to dinner. Mr Johnson, the retired librarian who always wears a suit and tie for their evening meal, is the first to arrive and he makes small talk with Delores and Mrs Woznizcka before the others arrive. Mr & Mrs Macey appear ready for a night on the town and Mr Bianchi, a travelling salesmen staying a few nights, keeps everyone amused with his tales of the road.

Once the meal is done, and Mrs Woznizcka waves away her offer to help to wash up, Delores makes her excuses and returns to her room. Settling herself comfortably in the armchair, with a standard lamp throwing its light over her shoulder, she opens Adventures in Arabia: Among the Bedouins, Druses, Whirling Dervishes & Yezidee Devil Worshippers and starts to read.

After a few minutes, there's a light tap on the door. It’s Mrs. Wozniczka, looking very apologetic. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Brown, with supper and everythings I foget. A man is call for you and leave message.” She hands you a piece of folded paper, “So sorry.”

The note says: “Call Mr. Dewlap”

You reach Dewlap at his desk: “Ah, Delores, I’m glad you got my message – that woman’s not your mother is she? Anyway, I called a friend at The New Yorker, Jerry Manton, and told him someone I know is trying to get hold of Marlene Hirt. He says he’d like to talk to you, even gave me his home telephone number. Ready? It’s LOgan-6674. Jerry Manton. Got it? I have to get to the theater – tonight’s the preview for Murder at the Vanities. Have a nice Sunday, Delores.”

Delores noted the name and number, thanked Dewlap and hung up. She checked her watch and decided it wasn't too late to call. She dialled the number and when she heard the receiver lifted at the other end, said, "Hi, can I speak to Jerry Manton please?"

“Hello, Jerry Manton.” The deep voice has a drawl not unfamiliar to your ears: Texas, you’d say, or maybe southern Oklahoma, down around Lawton or Wichita Falls. When you identify yourself, the man responds, “Yes, Luther Dewlap said you’d probably call, that you’re trying to get some information about Marlene. I wouldn’t want anything I say to show up in the newspaper, but I would like to talk to you.

“I live up on West 72nd Street, The Franconia. I guess it’s kind of late to meet tonight.”

While Delores is trying to decide if they could meet tonight, Jerry Manton says, "Do you think you could meet me for lunch tomorrow? My treat, of course," he hastens to add when Delores seems to hesitate, "How about the Russian Tea Room on West 57th about noon?"

It will take you about 20 minutes to get there by subway.

I'm going to declare that Delores agrees to meet Jerry Manton for lunch on Sunday.

We'll proceed to a new Sunday thread.

OK. Sorry for the lack of posts recently - been really busy over Xmas.