The author writes:
The other day I heard from a reader who wants to know how it came to be that my adventures with Khaki and Mallory, not to mention Potus Pohtiss and GOGS, found their way into a book. It’s not that we needed any more word-of-mouth referrals. We had more than we could handle.
It actually was one of those chance things. One evening a month or so after the events chronicled in Everything Is Jake had ended, Mallory, Khaki, and I were having dinner in one of my favorite Washington watering holes, the KBK Club at the Carroll Arms Hotel at 1st & C Streets, NE, just across from the Senate Office Building. I had just finished a short assignment that had an odd twist to it and was regaling my two favorite ladies about how it unfolded. We were in a merry mood and the more spirited we got the more wine we drank and vice versa, until soon, I’m a bit embarrassed to report, we were speaking a wee too loudly for the general ambience of the hushed clubby room. There came a moment when at a startling turn of my story and in a fit of exuberance rare for her, Khaki exclaimed: “You should get someone to tell that tale. It’s too good to hide.” She raised her hand to her mouth to acknowledge and stifle her vocal excess, and the napkin she was holding flew up and free and sailed onto the head of the guy sitting at the next table. Turned out to be our Author. He also turned out to be pretty good-natured about his unnatural head covering and brushed aside Khaki’s mumbled apology.
Then he surprised us all by swiveling his chair around, leaning toward us, and saying: “Aren’t you T. R. Softly, the detective?” Needless to say, I was even more surprised by a complete stranger somehow knowing who I was. I admitted to the identification readily enough but wondered aloud how he knew. “Oh, I follow you in the pages of the YAM.” A fellow Yalie. I reached over and offered him my hand. He said, “a little before your time, I’m afraid,” and we shook. “And what do you do?” I asked, innocently enough. Should have known. Some detective I am. He said, “As it happens, I’m an author and between books.” Mallory smiled beatifically and said, “Well, there you go.” And there you have it.
