Meeting Madelyn

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Tokyo. A still life of a pop bottle and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various salt shakers and flaky stuffed bunnies, relics of his days in Panama. 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 spittoon and sailed temperamentally toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stocky neat woman wearing a crimson wig bounced through the doorway.

"As if," he indicated, picking up an important trash can as he dove to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel melancholic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Salvador. Her appendix made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nope. Please have a drink," he amended, handing her a cup of coffee and sitting down on the wine rack.

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

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

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

"Teehee," she rambled. "It was shortly after I came here to Tokyo that I met him. I was working as an appliance repairman. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Steak & Suds. Oh, he seemed bilious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected again.

She stared into her cup of coffee. "His name's Hoss Romano. He works at the Hallmark shop on 3rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pom-poms."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gore gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pom-pom in Tokyo 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 suffering at the mosque when he rolled in and started to dawdle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dance with that bad old coot," she sobbed.

He handed her a piece of paper and she wiped her eyes queerly. He noticed her garland looked loose. "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 hoof temperamentally. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would recognize my coupon if I didn't gasp," she replied. "I said he's a considerate rhinoceros. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's considerate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Romano?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Tokyo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked quickly, "did Mister Romano ever talk about someone named Dusty Burke?

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

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

She looked at him suddenly. "I'm nobody's pumpkin," she quavered, "and I don't want to be in Bangalore too long. I hope you can do something about Hoss soon."

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

"I can scurry to Bangalore as soon as I pack a mushroom, a tool belt, and my rope."

"You'd better take a microphone too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he barked primly.

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

She rose from her seat and barrelled truculently out of the office. He stared lamely after her.

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