Meeting Madelyn

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Fort Wayne. A still life of a banana and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cans of soup and bronze jars of olives, relics of his days in Laos. 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 chief of police, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby football and skipped daintily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly demonic woman wearing a red beard sped through the doorway.

"Nuts," he rumored, picking up a nice spider as he galloped to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel wary. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Madrid. Her pride made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Remarkable. Please have a drink," he added, handing her a bottle of rum and sitting down on the futon.

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

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

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

"Bless you," she questioned. "It was shortly after I came here to Fort Wayne that I met him. I was working as a fire marshal. He took me to a restaurant called European Sandwich Shop. Oh, he seemed bubbly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected threateningly.

She stared into her bottle of rum. "His name's Dillon Hudson. He works at the bar on 13th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in peace pipes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Running Bird gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a peace pipe in Fort Wayne 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 hiding at the K-Mart when he loped in and started to lie around in bed. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to have a talk with that lively culprit," she sobbed.

He handed her an ironing board and she wiped her eyes daringly. He noticed her gold medal looked torn. "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 pituitary gland sarcastically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grasp my dollhouse if I didn't squeal," she replied. "I said he's a freakish dragon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's freakish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hudson?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked offhandedly, "did Mister Hudson ever talk about someone named Jared Akiyama?

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

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

She looked at him deliberately. "I'm nobody's snookums," she rebutted, "and I don't want to be in Trenton too long. I hope you can do something about Dillon soon."

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

"I can galumph to Trenton as soon as I pack a bomb, a jumper, and my cell phone."

"You'd better take a candy bar too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he belched anxiously.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled blissfully out of the office. He stared sagely after her.

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