(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.
(THEME UP AND OUT UNDER....)
GK: It was May in downtown St. Paul, and everybody was in high spirits -- -- you see people on the street, they felt so exhilarated they almost made eye contact with you. They'd look you straight in the chest. For me, it was just another day trapped in my tiny airless office taking dumb phone calls from people. (PHONE RING, PICKUP) Yeah, Noir here.
TK (ON PHONE): You a private eye?
GK: Yeah, right.
TK: I need some help. I'm looking for my glasses.
GK: (SIGH) Just look around for them.
TK: I can't. I'm not at home, I'm in my car, calling from a carphone. (HONK OF CAR PASSING) Whoa--- what's the matter with him?
GK: You're driving without your glasses?
TK: I've got my reading glasses on. I can see shapes. (HONK) Hey!
GK: Listen, I don't take cases like this, okay?
TK: I don't think they're in a case, I think I left them in the bathroom.
GK: Have somebody else get em. I'm a detective, I'm not your mother. (CLICK) You go in the private eye business, it's amazing what people think of for you to do. (RING) (PICKUP) Noir here.
SS: Yeah--- say---- I am really concerned about my son ---- he is ten years old and the teacher says that he has very poor group-activity play skills and I'm wondering if you could go over to his middle school about two o'clock this afternoon ---- that's when they take recess ---- and just sort of watch and see how he's playing with others?
GK: Look. I'm a private eye, lady. I deal in murders, kidnapping, extortion, larceny ---- I'm not a nanny.
SS: Oh. Okay. (MUSIC)
GK: Finally, I ducked around the corner and into the Five Spot. (MUSIC BRIDGE)(DOOR OPEN, JINGLES) The joint was empty except for the bartender, Jimmy. (FOOTSTEPS)
TR: Hey! Hiya, Guy.
GK: Hiya, Jimmy.
TR: Beautiful day out there.
GK: I guess. If you're in the mood for it. ---- Hey! I thought you had George Jones on your jukebox---- I don't see him here-----
TR: Naw, we got rid of that.
GK: How can you run a bar and not have George Jones on the jukebox?
TR: We got George Winston.
GK: A person can't sit and drink listening to George Winston. Oh well. (HE PUTS COIN IN SLOT. PRESSES BUTTON) (PAUSE) (GEORGE WINSTON PIANO) Kinda reminds me of my dentist's office.
TR: Good you came in when you did, Guy. I was just about to close up.
GK: It's five o'clock in the afternoon.
TR: I was thinking about going for a bike ride.
GK: Bartenders don't ride bikes, Jimmy. They don't go to bike trails. They go to racetracks and play the ponies. And they don't close early. Bars stay open until the wee hours.
TR: Well, business is pretty slow, Guy.
GK: For you too, huh?
TR: People don't drink like they used to. I haven't fixed a Martini in weeks. Manhattans? Singapore Slings? Forget about it. People want fresh fruit drinks. Non-alcoholic. Bought myself a new juicer just this week. Look at this. (WHIRR) Toss in some oranges. (GRINDING AND SQUIRTING) Couple kumquats. (SFX) Strawberries. (SFX) Rutabagas (SFX). Rhubarb. (SFX)
GK: Rutabagas!
TR: To give it fiber.
GK: People expect fiber in their drinks now?
TR: Yeah. (TURNS JUICER OFF) Care for a taste?
GK: I think I'd like a gin and tonic, Jimmy. A shot of gin, and tall on the tonic, and a dash of bitters, and a little lemon juice. No fiber.
TR: Okay, but you're going to have to sign this waiver.
GK: What is this?
TR: It's just an affidavit saying you understand that gin is bad for you and you shouldn't be drinking it.
GK: This is crazy. (HE SIGNS)
TR: It's the liquor companies, Guy ---- they're trying to avoid a class-action lawsuit. ----Okay. Coming right up. (HE MAKES DRINK)
GK: Minnesota is getting to be like a kind of a giant day-care center for adults, don't you think. Making people go stand on the sidewalk to smoke a cigarette. George Jones not on a jukebox. Bartenders going bike-riding. It's no wonder they don't need the services of a sleuth. Nobody's murdering anybody. Everybody's juicing.
TR: Business is tough for you, huh?
GK: How would I know? I don't have any.
TR: One gin and tonic, coming up. (SETS GLASS DOWN)
GK: I'm a snoop. A shamus. A gumshoe. A bird dog. A beagle. Somebody finds a blonde in room 214 at the Shangri-la Hotel, her hands and feet tied with silk stockings, and the words "Au Revoir" written in crimson lipstick on her forehead, they call me. Somebody's rich uncle turns up missing from his chateau and there's a trail of birdseed across the ballroom floor and a pair of pliers and a copy of "Begin the Beguine" ---- they call for Noir. Except they don't anymore. They call me when they're missing their lawnmower.
TR: How's the gin and tonic?
GK: Great. Thanks, Jimmy. (ICE IN GLASS JINGLES) I'll never forget the Case of the Assassinated Associate Professor.
TR: A dead white man, huh?
GK: Yeah. Taught freshman English at Augsburg college. I got the call from the dean---- I drove over (CAR, STOPPING) and parked in back (DOOR CLOSE, FOOTSTEPS) and walked in and there was the Associate Professor, in his office, stretched out on his couch, stiff as a board. The Dean was there, looking like he was hoping this was a bad dream and he'd wake up and there'd be breakfast.
TR (DEAN): Thank you for coming over right away, Mr. Noir. This is a terrible day for Augsburg, let me tell you. He was a fine man, Mr. Tortilla. He was a poet and he taught freshman English here for thirty years.
GK: Thirty years. That's a long time. Long enough to make some enemies. And this is how you found him?
TR: Yes. Stretched out on the couch with the letter A hanging around his neck.
GK: An A. Interesting. And you didn't touch anything?
TR: No, it was just like this when I walked in. I was coming to tell him that he'd been fired, and I found him dead.
GK: Anybody have a motive?
TR: Well--- he assigned six ten-page term papers this semester.
GK: Aha.
TR: He was a tough grader too.
GK: He didn't grade on a bell curve?
TR: More like an axe than a bell.
GK: So maybe a student did it, huh?
TR: I don't know. He'd been sort of despondent lately.
GK: Well, poets usually are, aren't they. It's their stock in trade. (FOOTSTEPS) Interesting. A rock on the floor. And a red shirt with the picture of Crazy Horse ----- what's this?
TR: A pistol.
GK: I see. (HE SNIFFS) But it hasn't been fired. Hmmmm. And a bunch of lilacs and a basket of pomegranates.
TR: It was all here when I came in.
GK: And this wooden horse and the silver amulet were here when you came in?
TR: Yes, Mr. Noir.
GK: And the toad and the sheaf of wheat and the black umbrella?
TR: They were all here. What do they mean?
GK: Not important. The main clue is this stool. Obviously, the man was trying to reach a book on the top shelf and he got dizzy and fell over. You can tell by the dust on his index finger. See---- it's only on the very tip of the finger, meaning he had to reach up high.
TR: And the dizziness?
GK: The A is a medical tag. It stands for acrophobia. The fear of heights. Mr. Tortilla stood on the stool and reached up for a book and fell over.
TR: Really? But what about the rock and the red shirt with the picture of Crazy Horse and the pistol and the bunch of lilacs and the pomegranates and wooden horse and the silver amulet and the toad and the sheaf of wheat and the umbrella?
GK: Pointless symbolism. Poets do it all the time.
TR: Oh?
GK: It's their stock in trade. Along with despondency and their fascination with death. Except he's not dead.
TR: He's not dead? but he looks dead. And he's not breathing.
GK You teach freshman English for thirty years, it has that effect on you. (SLAP) Hey. Get up---- Daylight in the swamps, pal.
TK: (MURMURS) Huh? Wha---? where am I? (MUSIC BRIDGE AND UNDER....)
TR (JIMMY): So you solved it just like that, huh, Guy?
GK: A guy's got to go by his hunches, Jimmy. You study up, you do your legwork, but first impressions ---- usually there's something to em. Hey, this is some gin and tonic.
TR (JIMMY): You care for another, Guy?
GK: No, I got to go see a man about a dog.
TR (JIMMY): Oh. Well, it's right in back, through that door. You know----
GK: No, I don't mean that, Jimmy. I've got to go see a man about a missing dog. A sheepdog. Answers to the name Ruth. She's wearing dark glasses and she's got earphones and a CD player.
TR: Okay. See you around, Guy.
GK: Take care, Jimmy.
(THEME)
TR: A dark night in a city that keeps its secrets, where one guy is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions...Guy Noir, Private Eye. (MUSIC OUT)
(c) 1998 by Garrison Keillor