(GK: Garrison Keillor, TR: Tim Russell, SS: Sue Scott, TK: Tom Keith)
(THEME)
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.
(THEME UP AND OUT UNDER....)
GK: It was one of those winter days in St. Paul when the temperature falls off a cliff and people who are pretty reserved to start with turn into sealed envelopes because it's painful to breathe. You walk three blocks from the Acme Building to the cigar shop in the Ryan Hotel, it feels like you're with Robert Scott in Antarctica. As much as possible I tried to conduct my business on the telephone.
SS (ON PHONE): So when can you get started trailing him, Mr. Noir? I want to get the goods on this slimy little weasel----
GK: Well, how about April, Mrs. Britzweiler?
SS (ON PHONE): April!!!! But it's two months until April!!!
GK: I think of that often, myself.
SS (ON PHONE): But all I'm asking is that you trail my crumb-bum husband and catch him red-handed when he throws the recycling out of the window of his car instead of taking it to the recycling center.
GK: I know, I know, but it means I'll probably have to crawl down through the snow and pick up all that brown glass and green glass and aluminum and newspaper for evidence. And it's cold out there!
SS (ON PHONE): What? It's too cold for you? Is that it? You're afraid to go outside? (BRIDGE)
GK: I hate it when people get all moralistic about winter. As if their masochism made them better people. It's bad just to make that three block run up to the Ryan Hotel to get a newspaper and a cigar. (FAST FOOTSTEPS) (TRAFFIC) Half a block to go. I can't even feel my face anymore. Man, that wind. I think my kidneys just froze up. Ahhhhh. (DOOR OPEN, CLOSE, TRAFFIC OUT. FOOTSTEPS) Oh Lord. Oh my gosh. Oh it's cold out there.
TK (TEEN): You okay, Mr. Noir? You look like you're having convulsions or something----
GK: Just cold, Wilbur.
TK (TEEN): You want a hot chocolate or something?
GK: Wilbur, why do you end your sentences with "or something"--- it bugs me.
TK (TEEN): I donno. It's just a verbal tic or something.
GK: Never mind. Give me a cigar, Wilbur. One that gives off heat. And a newspaper. A thick one that I can put under my shirt for insulation.
TK (TEEN): You see this big story in today's Pioneer Press? The one about natural gas prices going up.
GK: It's that Lutheran Mafia at work, kid. What they call The Brotherhood. Most natural gas in Minnesota, you know, comes from dairy cattle. Holsteins.
TK (TEEN): I didn't know that.
GK: Yeah, they feed em silage to increase gas production and they collect the gas when they milk em. It's just one more tube, you know? They give pure methane. Average cow gives off enough gas in one day to heat your house for a week. Anyway, the Lutheran mob in southern Minnesota controls that supply. Lot of those sort of A-frame churches, those are really gas storage tanks. They withhold it until the price goes up and then they let go. PPPPPPPPP. And they get rich off it.
TK (TEEN): Wow. You sure are smart, Mr. Noir.
GK: On the other hand, Holstein gas is efficient fuel and it's saved lives. A lot of Minnesotans might've been asphyxiated in their sleep by gas leaks, but, man, the smell of this stuff wakes you right up.
TK (TEEN): Boy, I guess so. I've been smelling that around my place lately.
GK: Better check your pilot light. Gimme a paper, Wilbur. And a stogie.
TK (TEEN): What kind of cigar you want, Mr. Noir?
GK: Gimme a big long one. One of those Hondurans. (BRIDGE) I took the paper and cigar back to my office and turned up the radiators and got comfortable and lit up the cigar (MATCH) and took that first delicious inhale and suddenly had a flashback to a day in the Caribbean when I was slim and tan and went around in a little skimpy bathing suit and a young woman offered me a papaya and peeled it when (POUNDING ON DOOR) ---- okay, okay, okay---- (CREAK OF CHAIR. FOOTSTEPS) I'm coming. (POUNDING) All right, already. Cool it! Keep your shirt on, wouldja? (DOOR OPEN) What's the----- Oh. Sandra. Isn't that right? You're just moved into the office upstairs.
SS: Did you just light up, Noir?
GK: Did I what?
SS: I smell smoke in here.
GK: I don't smell a thing.
SS: It's cigar smoke.
GK: It's an incense stick, Sandra. I meant to tell you.
SS: It's cigar smoke.
GK: It's incense. It's a religious act. You ever hear of the First Amendment, Sandra?
SS: What is this here?
GK: What?
SS: This! This big ugly brown cigar.
GK: That's an incense stick, Sandra.
SS: This is a cigar.
GK: Sandra, this is a religious object.
SS: This is Minnesota, Noir. We have an Indoor Clean Air Act. There's no smoking.
GK: Sandra, Minnesota is a multicultural society, it's a changing world, something that you consider a cigar I may consider a religious object.
SS: You can't smoke in here! It's as simple as that.
GK: That's that old white dominant culture talking, Sandra. This incense stick is a part of the religious practices of my people, the Cucaracha people----
SS: I'm calling the cops right now. (FOOTSTEPS AWAY)
GK: It's religion! It's religious freedom, Sandra! You ever go to an Episcopal church? You see em whipping those incense pots around? Huh? Is that against the law? (DOOR SLAM) (BRIDGE) I got busy and I sprayed (SPRAYING) with Lysol and Pine-Scented Room Freshener and I'd pretty well cleared out all the smoke smell by the time the St. Paul P.D. arrived. (KNOCKS) Yeah. Coming. (SPRAYING) One second. Be right there. (SPRAYING) (KNOCKS) Okay. Okay. (FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPEN) Why, good afternoon officers.
TR: Behavior Squad, Noir.
TK: Mind if we come in?
GK: Please. Make yourselves at home.
TR: Smells like a men's toilet in here, Noir.
TK: Lot of Lysol. You got a problem?
GK: Just trying to cover up a gas leak, officer.
TR: Trying to cover up cigar smoke, you mean.
TK: Where is it, Noir?
GK: Where's what, officer?
TK: The butt, Noir.
GK: Sir, that's not the----
TR: The cigar butt. The cigar butt. Where is it?
GK: I have no idea what you're talking about.
TR: You didn't throw it in the men's room urinal, did you?
GK: I never throw cigar butts in a urinal. They get soggy and hard to light.
TK: Mind if we look around?
GK: Please. Be my guest. (FOOTSTEPS. SOME RUMMAGING) On occasion I have used incense in here and the sacred tobacco that I smoke in accordance with the practices of my people, the Cucaracha people. (WINDOW OPEN)
TK: Spare me the story, okay?
GK: I'm only trying to provide some background.
TK: Just back off.
GK: Okay, okay. (WINDOW CLOSE)
TR: What's this, Noir?
GK: What's what, sir?
TR: This warm cigar butt on the window ledge just outside.
GK: You know, those pigeons will do anything to stay warm in this weather, officer. They pick up hot butts out of outdoor ashtrays, bring em up here. Huddle over them. Four or five pigeons. It's pitiful.
TR: Take it down to the lab, sergeant. We'll get the DNA off the saliva. If it's a match, it could go rough for you, Noir. And it's gonna be even rougher if you lie to us. Come on. The truth. I ain't got all day.
GK: You know, on second thought, that looks like the sacred tobacco that I was using in my religious rites, the rites of the Cucarachas. I put it out on the ledge so it could absorb the energy of our great mother, the sun, who gives life to the sacred plant of which the tobacco is the leaf--
TK: We ain't got all day, Noir. Out with it. You were smoking in here. Right?
GK: In a manner of speaking, yes.
TK: In a manner of speaking??
GK: It was the cigar that was smoking, sir. I was only inhaling.
TR: Noir? You know what happens to convicted indoor smokers in Minnesota?
GK: No, sir. I imagine it's something truly dreadful.
TR: You're sent to behavior school.
GK: I see.
TR: You sit in a class that's taught by a woman with long hair pulled back very tight, a woman in a beige corduroy jumper and oxfords. A retired third-grade teacher named Miss Benford. You spend sixty hours listening to her talk about responsibility and getting along with others.
GK: It sounds rough.
TR: It's very rough. Guys who got through Leavenworth in a breeze --- they break under Miss Benford.
GK: I'll keep that in mind, sir.
TK: We catch you smoking again, it ain't gonna go so easy on you. You read me, Sherlock?
GK: So you're saying that a man who wants to practice his religion has to stand huddled in a doorway in ten-below weather.
TR: That's pretty much it. The law's the law.
GK: Yes, sir. Have a nice day, sir. Would you mind if I ----(DOOR CLOSE) --- kept that cigar butt? Guess he would mind. Too bad. Nice cigar. (FOOTSTEPS SLOW, TO DESK, SIT IN CHAIR) If it hadn't been for Miss Goody Two-Shoes upstairs. Sandra. Must be short for Cassandra. The prophet of disaster. That's the problem when they renovate a building, you get a lot of people like her moving in. Consultants. People with ficus plants and glass coffee tables and copies of Vanity Fair. People of no special expertise but they sell you confidence. They find statistics that support doing what you wanted to do anyway and they explain it to you in jargon that makes it sound about half brilliant, especially if you already think of yourself that way. (KNOCKS ON DOOR) Oh, go away. Haven't you done enough damage for one day, ma'am? What are you here to complain about now? Am I thinking too loud for you? (KNOCKS ON DOOR, FOOTSTEPS TO DOOR) C'mon. P.I.'s are human beings too, okay? If you cut us, do we not bleed? (DOOR OPEN) What is it? (SEXY SAX) Oh. Good evening, ma'am. I mean, morning. Good morning. Come in.
SS (NYMPH): Thank you. I was hoping I would find you in, Mr. Noir. Do you mind if I sit in this chair here? Thank you. (SHE SITS) Is something wrong? Why are you looking at me that way?
GK: I guess the blood all just ran out of my head. I'm fine. I never saw a woman in St. Paul in early February wearing what you're wearing, ma'am.
SS: And what is that?
GK: A good question. Not much at all.
SS: My name is Patty Polaris. I'm the new Queen of the Snows of the St. Paul Winter Carnival.
GK: Congratulations, Miss Polaris.
SS: They're trying to give the Winter Carnival a new look.
GK: I can see that. They're doing a good job.
SS: Last year's Queen wore a white formal and a white ermine wrap.
GK: And you decided to come in this----
SS: It's a thermal bikini.
GK: It's quite a piece of work, Miss Polaris.
SS: Call me Patty. I designed it myself.
GK: I like it.
SS: Oh, it's nothing.
GK: That's why I like it, Patty.
SS: The thong is actually an electric heating strip.
GK: That's good to know, Patty.
SS: It's quite warm.
GK: I can imagine.
SS: And the top is made of goose down.
GK: About six feathers, it looks like.
SS: We didn't want to harm the goose.
GK: Well, Patty, what's good for the goose is good for the gander.
SS: Winter Carnival attendance has been down and so they thought this would bring it up.
GK: Of course.
SS: The parade last Saturday attracted three million.
GK: That's half of Minnesota. So tonight is the torchlight parade, yes?
SS: That's right.
GK: You expecting the same size crowd?
SS: Even more.
GK: More?
SS: It's Wisconsin night.
GK: Really.
SS: I'm going to ride in the parade covered only in melted cheese.
GK: Really. A Patty melt.
SS: I think of myself as a sort of fertility symbol.
GK: I was thinking something very similar.
SS: I'm a graduate student in cultural anthropology at the University of Minnesota, Mr. Noir.
GK: I knew there was something about you.
SS: I'm doing this for my Ph.D thesis, "The White Goddess: Uses of Mythology in the Relief of Suffering".
GK: Well, you're the doctor.
SS: Anyway, tonight I'll be wearing only melted cheese. And then I'll get out of my convertible and walk across Rice Park and climb up the tower of the old courthouse and stand on the balcony and climb up on the rail ----
GK: Yes?
SS: And dive into the tank of beer.
GK: Yes?
SS: And climb out----
GK: Yes?
SS: And I need someone to be waiting for me holding up a large towel.
GK: What color would you like?
SS: Beige.
GK: I'll get a big beige towel.
SS: It'll be freezing cold out there.
GK: I don't care.
SS: The parade may be late. I might do my leap anywhere between 8 o'clock and 10:30. It's hard to tell.
GK: It's okay. I'll wait.
SS: You don't mind waiting.
GK: I'll wait all night.
SS: You better wear warm clothing.
GK: My thoughts will keep me warm. ----
SS: I'll see you later. When I climb out of the beer tank.
GK: Why did you choose me? You're young and incredibly beautiful and I'm old and heavy-set and my hair is dry and lifeless----
SS: I like old guys.
GK: But why?
SS: Because they're always SO GRATEFUL. (BRIDGE)
GK: It was mid-afternoon. Hours before the parade. I headed down to the Five Spot. (DOOR OPEN, JINGLE, CLOSE. FOOTSTEPS)
TR (JIMMY): Hey Guy, how's it goin?
GK: Not so bad, Jimmy. Not so bad.
TR (JIMMY): What's in the shopping bag?
GK: A bath towel.
TR (JIMMY): That time of the month already?
GK: Very funny. It's not for me. It's for a goddess I met. Patty Polaris. Queen of the Snows.
TR (JIMMY): Oh yeah. I saw her in the parade last week.
GK: Wonderful woman. Graduate student in anthropology.
TR (JIMMY): Really. I didn't notice that.
GK: No, of course you didn't. Most guys don't. Most guys their minds are in the gutter.
TR (JIMMY): Speak for yourself.
GK: I'm not that kind of guy. I'm interested in The Use of Mythology in the Relief of Suffering.
TR (JIMMY): How about a Martini?
GK: Okay, but only one. And make it with Diet Vermouth. I'd like to lose about forty pounds in the next four hours.
TR (JIMMY): No problem.
GK: Don't say "No problem," okay??? It bugs me. I hear it thousands of times a day. I get sick of it. Okay?
TR (JIMMY): Okay. Whatever.
(THEME MUSIC)
SS: A dark night in the city that knows how to keep its secrets, but a light shines on the 12th floor of the Acme Building -- Guy Noir, Private Eye.
(THEME UP AND OUT)
(c) 2001 by Garrison Keillor