3

I changed the client's name. She's now known as Agnes Wolfe. Sorry this installment was late, but I'll try to make it up to you by posting again tomorrow.
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I moved back around my desk and sat down in my chair. The springs squeaked softly, a sound I was so used to that it was more like the familiar murmur of a friend than an annoying noise from an old chair, as I leaned back and laced my fingers behind my head as I thought about the job. Well, specifically, I was thinking about the woman who was paying me and the money that job would bring in. Alright, even more specifically, I was thinking about using the money to buy something to drink with Agnes. Maybe down at Nick’s. Of course, then he would want some of that money... Maybe not down at Nick’s, since I suspect my tab could easily swallow up my incoming funds. I made a mental note to look into whether I really was a drunk.

I don’t really know how much time passed with me sitting there, daydreaming, but another knock at the door startled me almost as much as the previous one did. Two in one night... things are beginning to look up for ol’ Ben, I thought. And, like so many other hopes and dreams, this one crashed into the rocks of reality in short order as my door was opened and in walked Marion Clarke. Don’t get me wrong; I like Marion plenty. She just never tends to need any services of mine that I can charge her for. Friendship may not be free, but it's hard to write a receipt for.

By the look of her dripping mauve overcoat and soaked matching hat, the rain hadn’t let up since I got back to my office. And, by the look of her irritated expression, my dear Marion was none too happy about that fact. Her usually mischievous smile was replaced with an annoyed frown, her smooth brow now crinkled by a frown to match her mouth. Even her makeup had begun to run - just a little - and I knew that would make her even more displeased with the weather. Dames can be so vain.

“Marion,” I said warmly to her as I got up and moved toward her, “now what’s got you out in this ungodly downpour?” I paused, sensing something was wrong. “Pardon my saying so, my dear, but you don’t look like a person who is especially glad to see me. Aren’t we friends anymore?” She never could resist my charm.

“You rat!” she said with heat in her voice and a spark in her eye. Then she took off her wet hat and proceeded to hit me in the face with it, just once. “I’ve been waiting down at Nick’s for more than an hour! And here you are, tucked away in your warm and dry office all this time. No doubt dreaming about some damsel in distress who needs your help. There I was, sitting there like a dope when Nick said you’d come back here a couple of hours ago and that he figured you weren’t going to show your face around his place again tonight. I waded over here, you know.” Dames... they’re so irrational. Just because a fellow loses track of the time....

“Hey now,” I begged off, raising my palms to her and taking a step back, “I had a meeting with a client just after I got back. I didn’t know what time it was. Honest, Marion. You know I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch like that. C’mon... you know me better than that, I hope? Still, I’m sorry that I forgot. No need to get violent, though. You’ve got a heavy... something on that hat.”

“A client, eh?” she began, skepticism dripping from her tone, “And just who was this mystery client of yours?” She untied her coat and took a few steps toward me, predatorial look in her usually soft brown eyes. “I wonder if I’ll find this client of yours in the desk over there. Perhaps she’s all dressed up in her finest glass slippers - or just a few glasses.” She paused and then everything was fine, it seemed. Her expression was smooth and she even smiled that slightly crooked smile of hers at me and then she said, “You owe me, Shannon Benjamin. You owe me for making me sit in a bar for an hour and then making me wade down the streets to find you.”

I knew what that meant. At least, I knew what that usually meant. I was buying, wherever we wound up going. I walked over to her and took her coat from her, saying softly into her ear, “You know I’m happy to repay my debts, baby. Especially if it’s a beautiful woman who holds my marker.” Especially if it’s Marion who holds that marker, I thought. There’s no one - man or woman - who has a hold on me quite like she does. She makes a man want to be a better man just to be around her. And she was apparently immune to all of my charm.

She looked at me over her left shoulder, that crooked smile tugging the one corner of her mouth even higher as she smiled and then laughed softly. Turning from me, Marion touched my cheek with her soft hand and said lightly, “Darling, you wouldn’t even know where to begin with me. You just concentrate on repaying the debts you owe to balding bartenders, and I’ll concern myself with anything you might owe me, and how they might be repaid.” Turning from me, she wandered around my office a little before settling into my guest chair, gracefully crossing one leg over the other as she said, “Now, about how you’ll be making it up to me for being so inconsiderate and forgetting about me. I believe dinner is in order. And we’ll be taking a cab, too. I don’t want to have to wade through the streets of Milwaukee, and I don’t want to ride around in that... jalopy of yours.”

Oh, she was trying to get my goat and she knew it. And I couldn’t even avoid responding, either. “Hey now,” I began, hanging her coat on the coat rack by the door to drip a little drier, “you leave Fargo alone. She might not look like much, but she’s outlasted every other car on the road so far. And she’ll keep going, too.”

“That car is almost as old as your hat, my dear... and neither are very stylish anymore. Why not see if you can trade it in for something newer, and sleeker? Actually, see if you can trade both for newer models.”

“Oh, now my hat is also unable to match your high standards, Marion?” I moved to take my seat behind my desk, letting the squeak take a little longer than usual. I knew how she hated that sound, and I saw her wince a little at the hearing. Deep down, I smiled; I wasn’t foolish enough I smile outwardly, though. “You’re really riding me hard, here. My hat is a lot like Fargo; sure, it may not be the newest model, but it fits just right, it’s standing the test of time, and the price was right for each, free. So, I’ll take you to dinner, sure, but we’ll take Fargo or walk. And that, dollface, is a deal-breaker.” I laced my fingers together and put them on my desk as I leaned forward a little, coaxing a soft but audible squeak from my old chair.

“Fine, fine,” she said with an amused grin, “I’ll let you drive me to dinner in that old clunker and wearing that old hat. But I get to choose where we go, alright?”

“Certainly,” I said with a magnanimous tone, feeling very much like the winner in this little exchange, “that’s only fair. But there’s no rush just yet, is there? Give your coat a chance to dry out and my eyes a chance to enjoy the sight of you. It’s hard to get used to seeing a face like yours when you’re looking at a mug like mine all day in the mirror.”

“Don’t I know it,” she quipped with a sly smile. “Alright, we can wait a little while. You can tell me about this client and the job she - I presume it’s a woman, judging by the way you’re trying to charm me - wants you to do. In return, I’ll tell you all about what Leon was up to today.”

Leon Johnston. A poster child for raising the standards of entrance into the Police Academy if there ever was one. Hell, he presented a strong case for outlawing... Leon Johnston, really. Inspector with the police department and one fellow I wouldn’t hire to hand out parking tickets because he’d find some way to blame it all on me. To be fair, I can’t really fault him for not being my biggest fan. It must be hard to constantly have your job done for you by someone who doesn’t have years of experience bungling police matters. I can see how my ability - and his near constant inability - to solve the tough cases could be a burr under his saddle. I just wished he wouldn’t pin every murder he didn’t have a clear suspect for on me. Somehow, it always came back to me, in his mind. Marion worked down at the police station, as the receptionist, officially, and as my informant, unofficially. She was equally good at both.