easy ways for 11 year olds to make money

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datatime: 2022-09-26 05:11:34 Author:dvaVINRq

"The one that phoned me."

I got out of a jolting open-cage elevator, looked at a dirty spittoon on a dirty rubber mat, walked down a corridor that smelled of butts, and tried the knob below the frosted glass panel of 619. The door was locked, I knocked.

He reached over and pushed the hook down. "Now, listen," he complained. "You're too fast. What you calling copper for?"

A shadow came against the glass and the door was pulled back with a squeak. I was looking at a thick-set man with a soft round chin, heavy black eyebrows, an oily complexion and a Charlie Chan mustache that made his face look fatter than it was.

"Huh? What wren?" He still didnt look at me.

Rush Madder was a shyster in the Quorn Building. An ambulance chaser, a small-time fixer, an alibi builder-upper, anything that smelled a little and paid a little more. I hadn't heard of him in connection with any big operations like burning people's feet.

"Well, well, sit down," Madder said. "Glad to see you." He fussed around behind his desk and adjusted a burst-out seat cushion, sat on it. "Nice of you to drop around. Business?"

Madder opened a flat tin of cigarettes and pushed one past his lips with a sound like somebody gutting a fish. His hand shook.

"Not from my side. But if you think I'm going to sit here and let you play with my reflexes, it does."

Rush Madder was a shyster in the Quorn Building. An ambulance chaser, a small-time fixer, an alibi builder-upper, anything that smelled a little and paid a little more. I hadn't heard of him in connection with any big operations like burning people's feet.

He didn't look at me. "About how we could do a little business together. Say, in stones."

"Does it have to be that way?" His collar was too tight now. He yanked at it.

"Well, well, sit down," Madder said. "Glad to see you." He fussed around behind his desk and adjusted a burst-out seat cushion, sat on it. "Nice of you to drop around. Business?"

"Not from my side. But if you think I'm going to sit here and let you play with my reflexes, it does."

The Quorn Building was a narrow front, the color of dried mustard, with a large case of false teeth in the entrance. The directory held the names of painless dentists, people who teach you how to become a letter carrier, just names, and numbers without any names, Rush Madder, Attorney-at-Law, was in Room 619.

The phone clicked. I put my end of it aside, struck a match and stared at the wall until the flame burned my fingers.

"The one that phoned me."

I said slowly: "They want to talk to you. On account of you know a broad that knows a man had sore feet."

He reached over and pushed the hook down. "Now, listen," he complained. "You're too fast. What you calling copper for?"

The phone clicked. I put my end of it aside, struck a match and stared at the wall until the flame burned my fingers.

"Better see Rush Madder. Know him?"

A shadow came against the glass and the door was pulled back with a squeak. I was looking at a thick-set man with a soft round chin, heavy black eyebrows, an oily complexion and a Charlie Chan mustache that made his face look fatter than it was.

I said slowly: "They want to talk to you. On account of you know a broad that knows a man had sore feet."

"Better see Rush Madder. Know him?"

"Not from my side. But if you think I'm going to sit here and let you play with my reflexes, it does."

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