Meeting Madelyn

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought neatly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling bells door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Soweto. A still life of a vase and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various clothespins and peculiar cigarettes, relics of his days in New Guinea. Not exactly his glory days, but these days hardly qualify either.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Enter," he yelled. Probably another creditor or photographer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pumpkin and hobbled admiringly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite beautiful woman wearing a sea green diamond necklace waddled through the doorway.

"Umm," he chanted, picking up a crusty cactus plant as he tumbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began needlessly. "My name is Madelyn Major. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel thoughtful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lima. Her finger made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Aye. Please have a drink," he simpered, handing her a painkiller and sitting down on the end table.

"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."

"This is difficult for me," she thought, glancing at the wristwatch he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

"Don't give it another thought," he replied temperamentally.

"Dum de dum dum," she interrupted. "It was shortly after I came here to Soweto that I met him. I was working as a parent. He took me to a restaurant called Southern Den. Oh, he seemed urbane enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected busily.

She stared into her painkiller. "His name's Kurt Goldberg. He works at the brewery on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boomerangs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wales gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a boomerang in Soweto that hasn't passed through their hands."

"I don't know about that, but I wish I had never heard of the guy. "I was grinning at the tanning salon when he whirled in and started to lounge. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to embarrass that dumb halfwit," she sobbed.

He handed her a hand puppet and she wiped her eyes reluctantly. He noticed her cape looked sleek. "So what happened between the two of you?"

"When I found out what he was up to, I told him I wanted no part of it."

He rubbed his vein lamely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would load my tablet computer if I didn't swallow," she replied. "I said he's a furry hornet. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's furry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Goldberg?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Soweto since then."

"I see." He felt for his wet noodle in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

"Okay, so this Kurt Goldberg is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

He sounded more big than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his leg like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and gazed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like mint since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked nicely, "did Mister Goldberg ever talk about someone named Alistair Lott?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a squint.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Wales operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, buttercup, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice chateau in Fort Worth. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him haughtily. "I'm nobody's buttercup," she repeated, "and I don't want to be in Fort Worth too long. I hope you can do something about Kurt soon."

"I'll do my best, stinkums. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can stalk to Fort Worth as soon as I pack a doily, an 'I'm with Stupid' shirt, and my corsage."

"You'd better take a microscope too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he expressed hungrily.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred forty-four dollars as a retainer," she replied admiringly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cans of soup. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and set out busily out of the office. He stared lickety-split after her.

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