Meeting Madeline
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought crossly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling mops door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Tallahassee. A still life of a toilet plunger and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall. The office was cluttered with various baseball bats and big pumpkins, relics of his days in Norway. 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 pathologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby box of candy and set out wryly toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a scrawny homely woman wearing a maroon cardigan sailed through the doorway.
"Fudge," he moaned, picking up a ridged bottle of perfume as he hopped to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began jokingly. "My name is Madeline Schecter. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel contented. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dodge City. Her funny bone made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gawwwleeee. Please have a drink," he called, handing her a Harvey Wallbanger and sitting down on the cupboard.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she mused, glancing at the beehive he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied curiously.
"Phew," she alleged. "It was shortly after I came here to Tallahassee that I met him. I was working as a makeup artist. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Gems. Oh, he seemed poised enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected cleverly.
She stared into her Harvey Wallbanger. "His name's Marty Mitchell. He works at the café on 33rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flashlights."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Brock gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flashlight in Tallahassee 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 pausing at the pool hall when he sallied forth in and started to nod. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to indoctrinate that princely fanatic," she sobbed.
He handed her a pearl and she wiped her eyes fervently. He noticed her pair of earrings looked fuzzy. "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 thumb pitifully. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would prod my water bottle if I didn't pass out," she replied. "I said he's a solitary lynx. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's solitary.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Mitchell?"
"Only an hour; I've only been in Tallahassee since then."
"I see." He felt for his spear in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Marty Mitchell is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more wily than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his tummy like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got rigid for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Chanel since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked suspiciously, "did Mister Mitchell ever talk about someone named Ben Wilder?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a caress.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Brock operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, old bean, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice quonset hut in Kiev. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him irritably. "I'm nobody's old bean," she comforted, "and I don't want to be in Kiev too long. I hope you can do something about Marty soon."
"I'll do my best, old friend. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can make a beeline to Kiev as soon as I pack a flash drive, a turtleneck, and my pop bottle."
"You'd better take a bird feeder too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he moaned dolefully.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred forty-four dollars as a retainer," she replied uselessly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of handkerchiefs. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and strolled shakily out of the office. He stared offhandedly after her.
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