A Book of Names

“A concerned citizen just donated twenty-thousand dollars in cash to my effort to recover my Hosaurus. In turn, I’m offering all of it as a reward for its safe return,” Dillard McTeil told the press.

“What exactly is a ‘Hosaurus’”? Mr. McTeil.

My Hosaurus is the little black book containing the names of all the women I’ve known romantically. I want to give it to my younger brother so he may know the nature of the game.

“And what game is that?”

“The game? How to be a gentleman amongst boys. It’s the game for all-time. Before there were cellphones, we kept names of people we knew in little black books.”

Mr. McTeil was Newark, Delaware’s mayor. Light-skinned, with strong bone structure, he always looked deadly serious, but today more than ever.

“Mr. Mayor, when did you last have this book?”

“I had it while visiting an ailing couple on Ray Street. I thought it was still inside my breast pocket, where I always keep it, but then one of the house—a boy of seventeen years or so—asked if I still had my book of names, or if I’d switched to using a cell phone like most people. That’s when I patted the same pocket on the outside of my jacket, and it was...gone. I was embarrassed, and I recall the way the teen just shook his head in disappointment...not at me, just at the missed opportunity to behold this powerful piece of property.”

“Is there any way you can look in on those ailing parents to the teen?”

“No. They both passed within hours of each other. I don’t remember the boy saying he’d found my book, and I definitely don’t recall him reaching into my breast pocket to take it.

Another reporter cleared his throat.

“Is it possible the book was stolen from your office?”

“No, not possible. I only keep the book on my person. I travel with it. The only times it’s not not on me are when I’m in the shower, but then it’s locked in a case.”

Newark News reporter Godwin Kleebe asked, “Could the case have been pilfered?”

Mayor McTeil said, “No.The box is still where it always is, on my nightstand.”

Astasia Ledford then asked, “Who is the last person you see at night, Mr. Mayor?”

“Well, if it is any of your business, I lay down with low-mileage ladies whose numbers I memorized. The woman whom I allowed to experience my greatness had left when I had my Hosaurus still in the box. I rule out the young lady.”

“How young?” Astasia asked.

“Is twenty-one, too young for you?”

“Could she be The Future Mrs. McTeil?

Still a bachelor at forty-two, McTeil shrugged and answered, “Maybe. That’s why I need to find this book. I think I may have found ‘the one.’”

Suddenly, a young man parted the sea of reporters.

“Mr. Mayor! Mr. Mayor! I’ve got your book!”

A wave of cameras and microphones rushed towards the young man.

“Okay, young man. Let’s see it.”

The youngster held up the book.

A collective gasp arose from the crowd.

“On page 142, what is Raydia’s last name?” Mayor McTeil asked the young man.

“Torry.”

Mayor McTeil’s eyes lit up like a pinball machine and a grin curled around his face.

“Alright, on page 53, what is the first name of the woman with the surname Klover?”

“Her name is Hyacinth.”

The mayor’s smile disappeared.

“Alright. You’ve got it and I will stand by my word. I will give you the twenty-thousand dollars. Just make your way to this podium and we can settle this like gentlemen.”

“Okay. It’s been real, big bro’!”

“Benton?!”

“Get up here, boy!”

The mayor’s younger brother, Benton, made his way through the crowd, and handed over the Hosaurus.

“Free of charge, Mr. Mayor!” he said.