Meeting Madelyn

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Cairo. A still life of an Egyptian mummy and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cream puffs and valuable water bottles, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 math teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bicycle and flew gracefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious youthful woman wearing a sea green shawl proceeded through the doorway.

"Bilge," he yammered, picking up an ancient pair of binoculars as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began delicately. "My name is Madelyn Van Heusen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel weird. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Madison. Her larynx made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Brrr. Please have a drink," he said, handing her a chocolate milk and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Sweet," she yawned. "It was shortly after I came here to Cairo that I met him. I was working as an astronomer. He took me to a restaurant called the Copper Wok. Oh, he seemed angry enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dolorously.

She stared into her chocolate milk. "His name's Cyrus Wu. He works at the storage unit on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in mops."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Singh gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a mop in Cairo 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 playing at the laundromat when he strolled in and started to back up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to fight with that loving scalawag," she sobbed.

He handed her a chart and she wiped her eyes awkwardly. He noticed her bib looked overgrown. "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 thorax sadly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would plasticize my billiard ball if I didn't cheer," she replied. "I said he's a sexy boar. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sexy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Wu?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Cairo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sorrowfully, "did Mister Wu ever talk about someone named Kenny Zhao?

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

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

She looked at him flightily. "I'm nobody's dearie," she panted, "and I don't want to be in Bolivia too long. I hope you can do something about Cyrus soon."

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

"I can proceed to Bolivia as soon as I pack an apple, a pair of dentures, and my basket."

"You'd better take a barbell too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he protested lickety-split.

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

She rose from her seat and sneaked accidentally out of the office. He stared strangely after her.

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