Hello! It’s me again. There are more cartoons for the story, and I think that they are working out well. I hope that you have as much fun reading my ongoing story as much as I have in writing it.
Also, I want to say that I realize the picture of Tannenbaum this week has a markedly different face than the face I’ve given him in the previous drawing of him. This is not because of a major change in my creative process, but because Tannenbaum (his face included) is a work in progress, along with everything else here at themadhairman.
If you have feedback about how you think Tannenbaum should look, send me an email. In fact, if you have any questions or comments on the tale of Quin and Tannenbaum, please don’t hesitate for a moment to shoot me a line at email@example.com.
Thanks, and keep reading! -BW
Quin lunged forward and wrapped Tannenbaum in a hug.
“There seems to have been some sort of mistake.” Tannenbaum said. The brain surgeon did his best to break free of Quin’s embrace in the same way that a swimmer would remove seaweed that had wrapped around his foot. “This is not Warren Lennard.”
Sheriff Cook nodded his gray head.
“I know it’s not.”
“Then why is Quin booked as Warren Lennard?”
Sheriff Cook appeared to be wildly confused for a moment.
“You know this young man?”
Tannenbaum forcefully escaped from Quin’s arms and pushed him away.
“We’ve met once or twice, yes. He seems to have undue affection for me.”
“I wouldn’t call it affection,” Quin said, “it’s just that I’m glad to see you. It’s such a surprise. Are you staying long?”
Tannenbaum turned away from Quin.
“How did this happen?” Tannenbaum asked. “How could you possibly mistake an irksome derelict for a wanted criminal?”
Cook spread his hands wide.
“What were we supposed to do? We picked him up for sleeping in someone’s car . . .”
“For the record,” Quin interjected, “the convenience store lady gave me permission.”
“Like I said,” Cook continued, “we picked him up for sleeping in a car without the owner’s consent . . .“
“I told you,” Quin said, “the SUV had been abandoned. It was practically up for grabs.”
Cook gave him a wink and tried again.
“When we picked him up, he had no identification except for a wallet containing the ID for a Warren Lennard. We booked him as such, ran his name, saw that the faces didn’t match and talked to Mr. Quin about the matter. He says that he had swiped Mr. Lennard’s wallet from the back pocket of his cabbie the day day before.
“We asked Quin for his identification again, and he gave us a library card to the Micanopy Florida public library. He checks out, and has no criminal record.”
“But why did I get a call from Mr. David Marcus, telling me that Warren Lennard had been picked up?” Tannenbaum asked.
“At that time we hadn’t learned that Quin was not Warren Lennard, and by the time we corrected the mistake, it was too late. Marcus had already called you.” Sheriff Cook explained.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Lennard was actually Quin when I first arrived this morning?” Tannenbaum asked indignantly.
“Quin said that he thought you might show up.” Cook answered.
Both men turned to Quin, who smiled smugly back at them.
“Quin,” Tannenbaum began, “before I throw you out of my life again, is there anything you would like to say for yourself?”
“Beware the leopard.” Quin said.
“Okay, that does it.” said Tannenbaum. “Out. Get out.”
Happily, Quin took his bag and left. The door closed behind him, and the Dade county jail returned to its normal taciturn solemnity.
“Come back to my office,” Cook said with a wave of his hand, “I’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time. Is it true what they say about you?”
Tannenbaum cringed inside. He hated admirers. They slowed him down from his true work. Not wanting to abuse the good intentions of a cooperating police force, Tannenbaum followed Cook back to his office.
“Well, I suppose it depends on what they say about me.” he answered.
Cook laughed, and Tannenbaum suddenly froze in the doorway like a stone.
“What is it?” Cook asked.
“Quin stole Lennard’s wallet.” Tannenbaum said.
“That means that Quin knows where he is.” he said, and bolted from the room like a scalded ape.
Cook scrambled after and followed Tannenbaum out the door and into the street. They found Quin a block away, squatting on the sidewalk and reading the headlines on a discarded newspaper.
“Quin,” Tannenbaum demanded breathlessly, “do you know where Warren Lennard is?”
“Know where he is?” Quin said with a smile. “I can do one better. I’ll take you right to him.”
Thanks for reading! Come back every Tuesday and Saturday for a new story installment of Quin and Tannenbaum!
PS: If you think it was easy to draw Tannenbaum like that, you’re dead wrong. 😉