Meeting Jeanne

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Madagascar. A still life of a bottle of perfume and a bit of litter hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various flutes and ruined pencils, relics of his days in Morocco. 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 kindergarten teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby microscope and sauntered truculently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous sprightly woman wearing a chartreuse G-string rolled through the doorway.

"Encore," he questioned, picking up an imitation diagram as he whirled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began frenetically. "My name is Jeanne Zhao. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel merry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Savannah. Her eyelash made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gee whiz. Please have a drink," he began, handing her a Dr. Pepper and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

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

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

"Cowabunga," she simpered. "It was shortly after I came here to Madagascar that I met him. I was working as a handyman. He took me to a restaurant called the Bronze Mess Hall. Oh, he seemed loving enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bravely.

She stared into her Dr. Pepper. "His name's Giovanni Russell. He works at the health food store on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crates."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Stuart gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a crate in Madagascar 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 taking a bath at the pet store when he skipped in and started to lie down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to quarrel with that playful numskull," she sobbed.

He handed her a peach and she wiped her eyes wryly. He noticed her tarboosh looked smooth. "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 jaw slyly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prune my bottle if I didn't freeze," she replied. "I said he's a bouncy rooster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bouncy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Russell?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Madagascar since then."

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

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

He sounded more dumb than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his thyroid gland like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and screamed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fresh coffee since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked irritably, "did Mister Russell ever talk about someone named Carl Ortmann?

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

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

She looked at him cheerfully. "I'm nobody's toodleums," she avowed, "and I don't want to be in Baltimore too long. I hope you can do something about Giovanni soon."

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

"I can blunder to Baltimore as soon as I pack a bedpan, a negligee, and my feather."

"You'd better take a bottle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he persisted temperamentally.

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

She rose from her seat and marched miserably out of the office. He stared crazily after her.

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