By ten o’clock the next morning, with the cooperation of the USPS, Ken knew what street, in Joe’s neighborhood, still had a corner mailbox, and he was supplied with the names of everyone who lived on that street. At least, he had the names which were registered with the post office. For all he knew, some of them could be aliases.
Hoping that Joe would recognize one of the names, he called his soulmate. He was glad to have an excuse.
“Watcha doin’?” Ken asked coyly.
“Well, first of