(GK: Garrison Keillor; TK: Tom Keith; SS: Sue Scott: TR: Tim Russell)
(GUY NOIR THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but high above the busy streets, on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions --- Guy Noir, Private Eye ---
(PIANO)
GK: It was one of those fall days when a chilly wind blows out of the northwest that you can feel way down deep in your prostate and you look at the gray clouds and see the faces of old girlfriends.
SS (REVERB, DEEP WHISKEY VOICE): Hi, Guy. It's me, up in the sky. Remember me? Remember how you treated me? Like chopped liver. Except it wasn't liver. It was my heart, ya big dumbhead.
GK: I headed over to Danny's Deli for lunch, to cheer myself up.
(INDOOR RESTAURANT AMBIENCE, NOISY KITCHEN)
TK (TEEN): What can I get you, Mr. Noir?
GK: A corned beef on a Kaiser roll, hold the lettuce, heavy on the mayo and mustard, to go, Wendell.
TK (TEEN): We're out of corned beef, but we have hot dogs.
GK: Whatever.
TK (TEEN): And no Kaiser rolls, but how about a cheese Danish?
GK: Fine. (BRIDGE) I went back to the office and checked the machine for messages. (BEEP)
SS (ON PHONE): Mr. Noir? It's Rhoda. Rhoda Ruin. I'm downstairs in the lobby. It's very important that I see you. Today. I need your help.
GK: There was something soft in her voice that made me think of palm trees and beautiful women in bathing suits made from dental floss. And a moment later.......(KNOCKS ON DOOR) Come in, the door's unlocked. (DOOR OPEN, CLOSE. HIGH HEELS WALK SLOWLY TOWARD....) To say she was beautiful is like saying Strom Thurmond is mature. She was gorgeous beyond belief, and I am a believer, believe me. Her hair was like spun sugar and her eyes were like mountain pools, her skin like molten caramel, and the look she gave me was so sweet, you could've poured it on your French toast.
SS: Hi.
GK: She wore green slacks and a blouse so tight, you could see her pulse. It wasn't racing like mine. She seemed to be pretty calm.
SS: I'm Rhoda Ruin. I'm a nurse. In intensive care.
GK: I always hoped for intensive care, Miss Ruin. What can you do for me?
SS: I came to see you about a bird, Mr. Noir. (BIRD SHRIEK)
GK: In my bedazzlement, I hadn't even noticed the immense bird sitting on her shoulder.
SS: He's an albatross, Mr. Noir. His name is Albert. (SHRIEK)
GK: Of course. Lovely bird. Intelligent too. I can tell by the way he's hanging onto you.
SS: I trained him myself. And one thing he's trained to do is to find dangerous microbes.
GK: Why is he looking at me like that? (SHRIEK)
SS: We have to be extremely careful about bacteria in intensive care, and Albert can sense immediately when something is amiss.
GK: I knew you were amiss the moment you walked in, but----
SS: I thought he might be useful in the war against terrorism.
GK: I'll see that he enlists as soon as possible. (SHRIEK) Why is he shrieking like that? It makes me nervous. Is he seeing some sort of suspicious white powder in here?
SS: No, that's his natural cry that he makes when he's comfortable. When something's wrong, he gets very quiet and closes his eyes.
GK: Like so many of us.
SS: Would you call up the Department of Homeland Security and tell them about my albatross, Mr. Noir? Tell them he's available. Let me leave you my number. (WRITES) There.
GK: Why couldn't you just call them yourself?
SS: If I did, then how would you have met me?
GK: Good point. (BRIDGE) I tucked the slip of paper into my desk drawer and headed out on an urgent case. The sort of case I never used to take. Involving a cat named Snuggums. (SHORT BRIDGE, AMBIENCE OUTDOOR CITY)
TR (OLDER, VAGUELY BRIT): He's up in the tree, Mr. Noir. I'm afraid he's gotten into the gin and he's half out of his mind.
GK: Well, pour some more gin in a dish and we'll lure him down and he can get out of the other half.
TR: I heard that you have a way with cats.
GK: I do, unfortunately. They obey me. I don't know why. --- Get down here, Snuggums. (MEOW) Get down here and lap up this gin. (MEOW, LAPPING) (BRIDGE) On the way back into town, I thought about the higher class of clientele I used to have. Heiresses who hired me to track down the bimbo that Gramps has been snuggling with. Society wives who suspected their husbands of hanky panky with some tootsy wootsy at the Piggly Wiggly. I think of all the times Lieutenant O'Farrell used to call me in on tough cases.
TR (IRISH): The lady in the next room, Noir, is Mrs. Edith Chumley. And the man on the floor is Edith's husband, Juan.
GK: Looks like somebody made a hole in Juan.
TR (IRISH): Edith discovered he was having an affair with a girl named Kate.
GK: Well, you can't have your Kate and Edith too.
TR (IRISH): Family's got a lot of dough. That's a Ming vase.
GK: I'm not surprised. Her coat is a Ming coat. (BRIDGE) Those were the days. And now? Getting cats out of trees. Finding lost car keys. ----Rhoda was like old times to me. Her and her microbe-sniffing albatross. I tried calling the feds but the number was busy
SS (ON PHONE, RECORDED) : The line is busy. For only 95 cents, we
will keep trying and immediately call you back when the line is no longer
in use. For an additional 49 dollars, we will send a guy to knock on the door and take the phone out of their hand and hang it up. For 49 dollars and 95 cents, he'll call them a bad name.
GK: I was about to press 1 for her to keep trying, when ----(KNOCKS) Come in, the door's unlocked. (DOOR OPEN, CLOSE, FOOTSTEPS) Yes, sir. What can I do for you, sir?
VS: It's what I'm going to do for you, sir. I'm Wallace Schwinn, from the State Health Commission, Division of Disease Control, Department of Fumigation, Office of Anthrax, and I have here a warrant for your office to be vacuumed, steam cleaned, whitened, disinfected, decontaminated, pasteurized, expurgated, and bowdlerized so that every possible deadly microbe or bacteria is removed or killed and your office no longer poses a hazard to the health of others.
GK: Mr. Schwinn, I don't have a problem here, okay?
VS: We don't know that.
GK: Mr. Schwinn, microbes are what make the world go around.
Surely, sir----
VS: It's an official order, Noir. You have nothing to say about it. Come in, men! (SHOUTS, OFF, EQUIPMENT)
GK: What in the world is that?
(JETS WARMING UP)
VS: That's our special Monsoon Vacuum, powered by two Rolls Royce jet engines ---- see ---- on the flatbed truck on the street ----- a vacuum so powerful it'll strip wallpaper.
GK: This is a violation of my constitutional rights, Mr. Schwinn---
VS: The country's in a crisis, sir. We all must do our part. Bring in the firehoses! (MEN'S VOICES, RATCHET) We'll sluice the place down with disinfectant (POWERFUL SPRAY) and that'll take care of the bigger stuff and then we bring in the fogger (MOTOR) with the DDT and the Atrazine, and then--- (MOTOR STARTING, MEN'S VOICES, BRIDGE)
GK: Two hours later, my office was stripped bare. Dripping wet. Smelling of powerful chemicals.
VS: We'll call you with the results on Monday.
GK: But the slip of paper with the phone number!
VS: We'll test it at the lab.
GK: But could you please just read off the numbers to me??? (DOOR SLAM. BRIDGE)
TR (JIMMY): So how was your day, Guy? You look a little peaked.
GK: Aw, the same old thing. A brief ray of hope in the early afternoon, but it passed.
TR (JIMMY): Yeah, that tends to come in the early afternoon, doesn't it.
GK: A beautiful woman with an albatross.
TR (JIMMY): Every man's dream. What can I bring you, Guy?
GK: The usual.
TR (JIMMY): One Martini with a soybean coming up. I'll never forget what my old friend Chiang Jhao Rhee told me once about martinis.
GK: Who is he?
TR (JIMMY): Chiang Jhao Rhee? He used to write for Life magazine.
GK: Korean guy?
TR (JIMMY): No, Swedish.
GK: And he wrote for Life?
TR (JIMMY): The Swede, Mister Rhee, of Life.
GK: And what did he say about martinis?
TR (JIMMY): He said for great martinis, you have to go to Germany. Cause in Germany, you order a dry martini, and you get three of them.
GK: Just one for me, pal. I'm still hoping she might call back. Rhoda Ruin. (MUSIC)
TR: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, and there on the twelfth floor of the Acme Building is a guy still trying to find the answers to life's questions.....Guy Noir, private eye.
(MUSIC OUT)
© Garrison Keillor 2001