Meeting Madeline

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Somalia. A still life of a pair of pliers and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various orchids and used feather dusters, relics of his days in Honduras. 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 evangelist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pom-pom and tiptoed deftly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous massive woman wearing a striped ponytail flew through the doorway.

"Very interesting," he declared, picking up a wooden chess set as he skittered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began caustically. "My name is Madeline Hogan. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel drowsy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Medellin. Her hoof made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Barf. Please have a drink," he lectured, handing her an Alka-Seltzer and sitting down on the card table.

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

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

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

"Nope," she reasoned. "It was shortly after I came here to Somalia that I met him. I was working as a sword swallower. He took me to a restaurant called the Country Kitchen. Oh, he seemed cruel enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hopefully.

She stared into her Alka-Seltzer. "His name's Arturo McCord. He works at the flower shop on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pillows."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Geiger gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pillow in Somalia 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 snarling at the orchestra concert when he rolled in and started to blink. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to split up with that big buzzard," she sobbed.

He handed her a can of beans and she wiped her eyes ferociously. He noticed her pair of boxing gloves looked bronze. "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 claw uselessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would abuse my corsage if I didn't howl," she replied. "I said he's a perky buffalo. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's perky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McCord?"

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

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

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

He sounded more bizarre 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 meditated for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Chinese food since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked gleefully, "did Mister McCord ever talk about someone named Stuart Sokoloff?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a pound of the chest.

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

She looked at him sorrowfully. "I'm nobody's radiant starlight," she articulated, "and I don't want to be in Seoul too long. I hope you can do something about Arturo soon."

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

"I can skid to Seoul as soon as I pack a tube of toothpaste, a pair of flip-flops, and my piece of chalk."

"You'd better take a dart too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he purred jokingly.

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

She rose from her seat and tore tenderly out of the office. He stared haughtily after her.

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