(GUY NOIR THEME)
GK: (SINGS) He's smooth and he's cool, and quick with a gun, A master of the boudoir.
A guy in a trenchcoat who gets the job done,
It's Guy.....Guy Noir.
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but on the 12th floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions.....Guy Noir, Private Eye.
GK: It was one of those gray afternoons in March when the world seems stingy and mean, and nobody calls, and then somebody does, and it's not the right person. (PHONE RING, PICKUP) Yeah? Noir here.
SS: Is this Guy Noir the big jerk who tells women he loves them and then he dumps them like they were old laundry? Huh? Is it?
GK: Oh boy. Vicky.
SS: Mr. Noir, you need help, you know that.
GK: Vicky, you told me to get lost and I did. It's over.
SS: Not for me it isn't.
GK: You and me, we were an accident waiting to happen. It's over.
SS: It's not that simple. I need to get closure on this.
GK: It's closed. Bye.
SS: Why are you avoiding me like th--- (CLICK)---
GK: It was one of those days. When the human heart yearns to rise to heights of beauty and grandeur and then back we fall back into the same old manure pile. (PHONE RING, PICKUP) Go away, I'm tired of talking to you ---
TR (MILD MAN, ON PHONE): Mr. Noir?
GK: Oh. Sorry. Thought you were someone else.
TR: It's Borg Borgstrom over at Lutheran Brotherhood Travel.
GK: Yes, sir. What can I do for you?
TR: Mr. Noir, I was wondering if you might have a few days free this week to work on a case for us.
GK: This week, huh? Well, let me see. ----Yeah. I've got about seven days free this week.
TR: We sent a bus tour out to San Francisco last week, Mr. Noir. Twenty retired couples. Got a call from the San Francisco police today. The bus was found on the Embarcadero. Empty. Doors open. Motor running. Tuna salad sandwiches on the seats. The coffee still warm in the styrofoam cups. The St. Olaf Choir still playing on the CD player.
GK: Elderly Lutherans, huh?
TR: We had the tuna salad tested for drugs, and that's negative. No ransom notes so far. We're stumped.
GK: Maybe they liked what they saw and jumped ship.
TR: These are Lutherans, Mr. Noir. They are not jumpers.
GK: Well, Lutherans get ideas sometimes.
TR: One more thing. We checked with their local banks.
GK: Yes?
TR: Their retirement funds?
GK: Yes?
TR: All gone. (LONG DARK CHORD)
GK: Izzat right?
TR: Social Security checks---- they're all being forwarded to a postal box at the Potrero post office.
GK: Well, you see----- they were riding around the city and they got a whiff of garlic and rosemary and the bay was out there twinkling at them and the air was like spring and they thought about having to go home to Granite Falls and shovel the driveway and something snapped.
TR: I don't know.
GK: They got rid of their fanny packs and their matching plaid outfits and right now they're busy, burning their candle at both ends and, believe me, for bipolar candle burning, San Francisco is the place.
TR: Could you go out there and find out what happened, Mr. Noir?
GK: Sure. Why not? (MUSIC BRIDGE) So I got out my dark blue gabardine suit and a striped shirt and a bowtie and my best snapbrim fedora and my shoes with the tassels and the patterned socks and put a red polkadot hanky in my breast pocket and off I went. I called up an old girlfriend in Sausalito and left a message on her machine ----- (BEEP) Hi. Ginger. It's Guy. Remember? The weekend in Tahoe? Gonna be in the city for a few days. The Capriccio Hotel. Give me a jingle. Let's have a drink. (MUSIC BRIDGE, SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE) (AIRPORT AMBIENCE. FOOTSTEPS. NEARBY VOICES OF PASSERSBY. A P.A. ANNOUNCEMENT OR TWO) The San Francisco airport was packed with pale anxious people in weird holiday clothes milling like stunned cattle around the baggage claim. They'd just arrived and already it was dawning on them that this vacation wasn't going to be romantic adventure, it was going to be a forced march from one gyp joint to the next. (MUSIC BRIDGE) I took a cab downtown to the Capriccio Hotel. (CAR PULLING UP TO CURB, BRAKE)
TR: That's fifty-seven bucks, pal.
GK: Your meter was spinning like a slot machine, mister.
TR: Where you from? Sioux Falls?
GK: St. Paul. Not that it's any of your business. (HE STARTS TO COUNT OUT MONEY)
TR: St. Paul! They probably don't even have cabs there. You just hitch a ride on the hay wagon. (MUSIC BRIDGE)
GK: The hotel room was the size of a walk-in closet and looked as if the U.S. Olympic hockey team had lived in it for a week. I was just opening a window to get some oxygen when ---(KNOCKS ON DOOR. FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPEN)
GK: Yes?
TK (DOG): Hi, Guy. I got your message.
GK: Ginger?
TK (DOG): I'm Rex now, Guy. You can call me Rex.
GK: Well. I see the resemblance. Yes, sir.
TK (DOG): When you knew me, I was a German shepherd trapped inside a woman's body. Now, thanks to a wonderful surgeon, I'm myself.
GK: I see. Well, it must be interesting for you, huh?
TK: Aren't you going to invite me in?
GK: I'm not sure there's room for two in here, Rex. Anyway, I was just on my way out.
TK: Where you headed? You want company? I can sniff real good.
GK: I'm here on business, actually. Looking for a busload of tourists who disappeared on the Embarcadero.
TK: Oh yeah. I heard about that.
GK: My guess is they're probably in some restaurant, making up for a lifetime of chow mein.
TK: Speaking of that ---- how about dinner tonight?
GK: I don't know --
TK: you got a problem with trans-species people, huh?
GK: I may. Yes.
TK: I have wonderful memories of that week we spent on Catalina.
GK: That was a long time ago, Rex.
TK: You're the most exciting dancer I ever knew, Guy.
GK: That's fine, Rex.
TK: There's a wonderful club in the Castro called The Spanish Spaniel. You want to dance? My feelings for you haven't changed, Guy.
GK: Let me take a rain check on that, Rex.
TK: OK. Mind if I come along on your case?
GK: Not at all. (MUSIC BRIDGE)
Rex and I hit the street. (OUTDOOR CITY AMBIENCE, TRAFFIC, ETC. GUY NOIR FOOTSTEPS, DOG COLLAR JINGLE, DOG PANTING) I headed for the post office where the missing geezers' postal box was.
TR: Next! What can I do for you?
GK: It's this postal box, sir. I need to know the address of the people whose box this is. --You follow me?
TR: That's against Postal Service regulations to release that information, sir.
(TK GROWL)
GK: Sir. This is San Francisco.
TR: Oh. Right. Good point.
GK: This is not Seattle, sir. Or Salt Lake City.
TR: Right. I forgot.
GK: People jaywalk here. People drink beer in the parks. People cut each other a little slack here.
TR: Exactly. ----Here. It's an address on Minnesota Street.
GK: Thanks. Believe me, you won't regret this.
TR: I hope not. Boy, that dog is sure crazy about you, isn't he.
GK: Rex, stop it!
(DOG WHINES) (MUSIC BRIDGE) (CAR SLOWING DOWN) So Rex and I got a cab and headed for Minnesota Street. In Potrero.--- Right here, driver. The little green stucco bungalow. (BRAKES) (CAR DOOR OPEN) (CAR DOOR CLOSE. CAR PULLS AWAY. FOOTSTEPS. DOG COLLAR JINGLING. DOG PANTING)
GK: Would you mind not walking right next to me?
TK: What's wrong, honey?
GK: I can feel your jowls on my calf. And you're drooling on my shoe!
TK: Sorry.
(NIGHT AMBIENCE)
GK: I could tell it was elderly Lutherans in that house by the fact that the grass along the sidewalk had been edged using nail clippers and tweezers. And the welcome mat said, "Hi COME ON IN THEN." (FOOTSTEPS ON STEPS) I rang the bell. (PAUSE. THEN DOOR SLOWLY CREAKS OPEN A FEW INCHES)
SS (OLD, MIDWEST): Are you the prophet Eleazer? Are you come to give us the vectors to the place of blissful reunion?
GK: Your name wouldn't happen to be Gladys, would it?
SS: Gladys was my slave name. My new name is Flower of Tranquillity.
GK: Ma'am, I'm from Lutheran Brotherhood, and we've been very worried about you.
SS: Oh, you don't need to worry about us. When the millenium comes, we'll be raised up in shining vestments with crowns of emerald and jasper and we'll be placed in dominion over the sea and the land, all of us and Ardot.
GK: Who is Ardot, ma'am?
SS: Ardot is our God-given teacher who interprets the Sacred Texts. They're all written on tinfoil, in Angelese. He's the only one who can translate. But I don't think I'm supposed to be talking to you.
GK: It's okay. Is Ardot here now?
SS: Yes. Shhhhhhh.
GK: Is he putting something in your coffee, ma'am?
TR (OFF): Who is it wishes to speak with me, Flower of Tranquility?
SS: He gives us the nectar of inner peace and understanding.
GK: I suspected as much.
TR: Who is this, Little One? Why are you talking to him, against my command?
SS: I'm sorry, Ardot.
(DOOR OPENS FARTHER)
TR: Yes?
GK: Ardot, my name is Guy Noir. Let me come right to the point. Let my people go. Okay?
TR: (HE LAUGHS) I could never do that. They're happy here. Ask them.
GK: They're Lutherans, Ardot. They're not cut out for happiness.
TR: They're preparing for the Millenium, for the Day of Perfect Joy and Oneness-----
GK: Perfect Joy would kill these people, Ardot. Their elevators don't stop at that floor, okay?
TR: But they're progressing---- their consciousness --- they're almost to the third level----- every day they are studying the Sacred Texts--- none of them wants to go back----
GK: Ardot, let me put it this way. I don't know you, but I would guess that you're someone who would not care to have the D.A. taking a serious interest in your bank account and going over your tax returns looking for mistakes in arithmetic, am I right about that? Huh? Am I getting warm here?
TR: Okay. You win. Take em.
GK: Go take a walk, get yourself some yoghurt somewhere, read your Sacred Texts, and when you come back, we'll all be gone, and you can find yourself some new disciples.
TR: Okay. (MUSIC BRIDGE)
GK: It took awhile to get all the disciples to get back on the bus and on their way home to Granite Falls, they were pretty grumpy.....
TR (GEEZER): I was in a state of darn near perfect bliss and not giving a rip about material things and you had to go and ruin it.
SS (AGED): He was a real nice person, that Ardot. And he made such good brownies too.
TR (GEEZER): I ate two of em and suddenly my arthritis was gone. Boy, that was something.
SS (AGED): Just cause we're senior citizens don't mean we can't get to a higher state of consciousness, you know.
TR (GEEZER): That's for darn tootin. If we want to go by the name of Ecstatic Wisdom and sit meditating by looking at the clothes washer, that's none of your beeswax.
GK: Okay, people. Cut out the grousing. Next stop is Granite Falls. You want to attain perfect enlightenment, fine, but first, you've got to clean out your garages.
TR (GEEZER): I been trying to clean out my garage for fifteen years.
SS (AGED): I got forty-seven years worth of National Geographics in my basement and every time I go to throw em out, it breaks my heart.
TK (REX): Maybe I can help you, ma'am.
GK: Rex --- lie down.
TR: Did that dog talk or am I losing my marbles?
TK (REX): I've gone through some pretty big changes myself.
GK: Rex, lie down and shut up.
SS (AGED): A talking dog --- isn't that something!
TK: I'm the dog who was inside the woman who he once spent a weekend with at Lake Tahoe.
GK: Do we have to hear this now?
TR (GEEZER): you went to Lake Tahoe with a German Shepherd?
GK: Driver---- Granite Falls. And hurry.
SS (AGED): I'd like to hear more about this.
(THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers...Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)
© 1998 Garrison Keillor