Mr. Pigeon backed slowly away from his client, who was brandishing a snub-nosed revolver with the carefree air of someone who had no idea how to use it. It never occurred to the client, James Wilford, to insist that Pigeon stop moving.

As he moved, Pigeon talked. "It really is pointless to discuss this further, Mr. Wilford," he remarked. "Your problem is solved."

"Solved?" shrieked Wilford. "You call this 'solved'? My ex-wife has my house, my car, and my savings. How is that solved?"

"We talked about this possibility in the beginning, if you remember," said Pigeon. "I told you to hire an attorney. You decided not to do so. I told you to hire a detective. You decided not to. Those two decisions severely limited the possible outcomes of your situation."

"She was blackmailing me," Wilford snarled. "You were the only one I trusted - and look what you did!"

"I made sure the newspapers gave your secret some publicity," agreed Mr. Pigeon. "That released your ex-wife's hold on you."

"Sure, it did. It also nearly had the district attorney filing charges against me!"

"I'm not surprised. What you did was disgusting; you should be locked up," Mr. Pigeon said. "On the other hand, he had no evidence, and your wife was bluffing about hers."

"What about my reputation?" screamed Wilford.

"What about it?" asked Pigeon. "You still have your company - that your wife wanted, you still have your freedom - until you start pulling that trigger, and your ex-wife can no longer torture you with your poor moral choices. A certain loss of reputation was inevitable; she would not have stopped until you were penniless or dead. You are," Pigeon pointed out, "as you may remember, neither, but you will injure your throat screaming like that - not to mention drawing unwanted attention to this hotel room." He took another step toward the door.

Wilford paused, considering, then nodded slowly and lowered the gun. He tossed it on the hotel bed, then sagged wearily into a chair. "I guess you're right," he reluctantly admitted.

Pigeon continued. "You are still in some danger, however. The police investigation will discover that your wife's attorney hired a private investigator who took photographs of your nocturnal activities. I'm sure they will be visiting your office to arrest you fairly soon."

"What?" Wilford made a leap for the bed as Pigeon opened the door and ran out. Pigeon was halfway down the stairs when the shooting started.

Ten minutes later Pigeon was enjoying a bacon and egg sandwich in the coffee shop ten floors below when the police swarmed the hotel room to capture Wilford. It wasn't the first close call for Pigeon. There was something wrong with the people who hired him - they always wanted to blame someone else for their troubles - and when he solved a problem, and they inevitably didn't like the results, he received the blame and sometimes their homicidal tendencies. It was annoying and dangerous.

A few days later, Mr. Pigeon was back in his office on his park bench. The fat birds near his feet scuttled out of the way as a tall, middle-aged man with a gray mustache plopped down on the bench next to Mr. Pigeon. He stared solemnly into the distance, taking no apparent notice of Pigeon's presence. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, and stretched out his legs, crossing them.

"My sources," he began, "tell me that you are a dangerous man, Mr. Pigeon." He paused and snorted. "Stupid name, by the way."

"Your peasant ancestors would, no doubt, have sneered at falconry," retorted Mr. Pigeon. "By what name can I abuse you?"

"You treated Wilford badly," continued the man.

"Wilford treated Wilford badly," Pigeon commented. "He hired me to fix one problem; it was the other problems that did him in. But you haven't answered my question."

"My name is Erstmeyer."

"Nicely Germanic," said Pigeon. "What do you need?"

"I need you to cease and desist your activities, Mr. Pigeon," Erstmeyer announced. "I represent the state commission. We have become aware of your activities thanks to the enormous publicity in the Wilford case. You are not registered with us, therefore by state law you are subject to fine and possible imprisonment. If you choose to obtain a private investigator's license, you are, of course, able to submit an application just like everyone else, and it will be considered in due course. Meanwhile, while you are welcome to remain here and enjoy your surroundings, you may not continue to do your business in this park."

Pigeon laughed. "Though you have not informed me, Mr. Erstmeyer, what position you hold with the state commission responsible for licensing private detectives, I can surmise it is not as an attorney. Nor is it in the area of investigation itself, or you would no doubt have done some before you came to talk to me. You were only correct in saying I am not registered as a private investigator. That is because I am not in business as a private investigator, nor have I ever claimed to be. I have never been hired to do private investigation, so there is no need for me to be registered with your commission.

"I do have, by the way," Mr. Pigeon pulled a paper out of his wallet and waved it in front of Erstmeyer's face, "a permit to do business in this park, though it is not the business you imagine it to be."

"Did you not recently involve yourself in the affairs of James Wilford, cause him to lose most of his fortune in an ugly divorce case, and provoke him into shooting up a hotel room?"

"Well, let's see: no, no, and no. I was involved in his affairs - after he sought me out and personally requested that I act as his agent. I did not adjudicate his divorce. I recommended that he hire an attorney and a private detective to help him. He chose not to do so. Nor did I provoke him into shooting up the hotel room. That, like most other bad ideas in all of this, was entirely his own. He reacted to my report concerning our business in a very irrational manner. I felt fortunate to escape with my life."

"Didn't you offer to find out about his wife's blackmailing attempts?"

"There was no need for that. He told me about them himself."

"Then what did he hire you for?"

"In what way is that any of your business?"

"I am, as I said, representing the state commission on private investigation."

"And I am not a private investigator. Meanwhile, I've seen no evidence of that. Do you have any credentials?"

Erstmeyer pulled a wallet out of his coat pocket. He displayed for Pigeon's perusal an ID card which claimed that Arliss. M. Erstmeyer was the director of the State's Commission!

"I am flattered, Mr. Erstmeyer, that the director himself would come to my office to visit me. I'd say you just don't have the proper imperious manner of most state officials. You should have sent me a letter demanding I appear before you within thirty days!"

"I couldn't find a business address for you, or I would have! All everyone tells me is that you do all of your business in this park, on this bench."

"You wouldn't believe how much I miss throwing away the junk mail! I don't need a mailing address, Mr. Erstmeyer. I don't do business by mail; I do it in person."

"Fine!" exclaimed Erstmeyer. "I'm here. Now tell me what he hired you for!"

Mr. Pigeon shook his head. "You are the embodiment of a government bureaucrat, Mr. Erstmeyer." He sighed. "All right, it is really none of your business, but since you physically came to see me and Mr. Wilford is probably too busy with other issues to complain about my telling you, he hired me to solve a problem. That's all. Not to investigate anything, not to get involved in his personal choices, just to solve one problem - to stop his wife's attempt to blackmail him. That is what I did."

"And he paid you for that?"

"Of course! It is the only service I offer. I do not investigate, I do not provide muscle, I consult. If something convenient occurs to me that will solve my client's problem, I do it. That's all. If you want one motive why Mr. Wilford decided to shoot up the hotel room, it was probably because I told him something he didn't want to hear."

"What, that his wife was still blackmailing him?"

"No. That was over as soon as I told the newspapers what she said he had done."

"What!?"

"That's what he said, too. But it really is obvious. Blackmail relies on the victim not wanting the information generally known. When it becomes known, the blackmail is no longer effective. I merely made sure that Mr. Wilford's indiscretions were public knowledge. His wife then had no hold on him."

"I think I understand why you thought you were in danger."

"Yes, well, he didn't start shooting until I told him that her attorney had other information about his activities that the police were likely to act upon."

"Since he was your client, why didn't you do something about that?"

"It was not part of our contract. I only solve one problem, that's all. Nothing else, but in this case I warned him as a courtesy."

"What did he do to deserve a courtesy from you?"

"He didn't demand I return the fee. My clients always do. I'm still surprised he hasn't. He may get to it once the courts are done with him and he has time to remember."

Mr. Erstmeyer stood up. "My sources were right about you, Mr. Pigeon. You are a dangerous man. But you are more dangerous to your clients than to anyone else. At least I can be thankful you are not my problem. On that you and I agree. Good day."

As Erstmeyer strode away, Pigeon called after him: "Be sure to thank my friends in the police department for their concern, Mr. Erstmeyer, I do appreciate it."

Four days later Pigeon received a call from a man named Walker, who introduced himself as Wilford's attorney. Wilford had a job for him. Would Pigeon please come see him so they could discuss it?

Pigeon would. The office was on Fourth, about ten blocks away, so he walked. He found the office on the twelfth floor. Mr. Walker was, if the names on the door were correct, a partner in the firm, and thus deserving of the corner office with the view of the intersection below.

Walker turned out to be a middle-aged, tanned specimen, dressed in an expensive dark blue suit with a startlingly red tie. He stood up when Pigeon was escorted in by his secretary, shook his hand and waved him toward one of the chairs facing his desk.

He plunged right into business. "I am Wilford's defense counsel in the criminal case that came out of his wife's suit for divorce. The DA's office was notified that Mr. Wilford had been involved in sexual activities with a number of minors, perhaps even engaging in the trafficking of children for this purpose. Needless to say, with these preliminary charges may come a number of related charges, including kidnapping, conspiracy, etc. He, as you undoubtedly know, was arrested originally on gun-related charges. He has been further held as a person-of-interest in these other inquiries. Should Mr. Wilford eventually be tried and convicted of these, he could be spending the rest of his life in prison."

He paused, expecting Pigeon to comment. Pigeon obliged. "I told him in the hotel they would probably come after him for those activities. But if you are expecting me to rally to the cause of keeping him out of prison, I'm not likely to be interested. I also told him at the hotel that I thought he should be locked up. His behavior was disgusting. I have not changed my mind on that, nor was my contract with him to extend into eternity."

"If it is a matter of money, I am authorized to extend a retainer?" mentioned Walker.

"It is not really a matter of money. I like, Mr. Walker, to keep my business practices simple. I am not a lawyer nor a private detective to be kept on retainer. I do one job per client at a time. My fee is one thousand dollars, payable immediately. When I have completed that job, to my own satisfaction, the contract is ended. You mentioned on the phone that Wilford had a job for me to do. That is fine. If you will tell me what the job entails, I will be able to judge whether it is a job I can do."

"You might be interested to know, Mr. Pigeon," said the attorney, "that I also advised Mr. Wilford to hire a private investigator. I work with several reputable firms. He utterly refuses. He believes that whatever a private detective discovers about his activities would eventually end up in the courtroom. On the other hand, he trusts you, and he trusts your discretion. The more serious charges, of kidnapping and conspiracy, worry him. He believes he will be used as a scapegoat by the District Attorney's office and his sentence, should he be convicted, will be unreasonably harsh. He desires you to expose the activities of those actually responsible."

Pigeon cleared his throat. "My discretion is my own, not professional. I apply it according to my own idea of ethics. If he will trust me on that basis, that is fine. But I have made it clear to Mr. Wilford, and I hope, to you, that I am not a detective. What you are asking for is detective work."

Walker smiled. "Mr. Wilford anticipated your objection," he said. He removed a small slip of paper from his coat pocket and slid it across the desk. Pigeon picked it up and looked at it. "I have looked at it," Walker continued. "He told me it was the name of his contact, the one who ran the business that Wilford patronized."

Pigeon looked at him. "He wants me to expose this person?"

"Yes," Walker responded. "Obviously, if what he says about this person is true, there will be some danger, both for you and for him, but especially for you."

"You may tell Mr. Wilford I accept his assignment."

Walker looked surprised. He reached back into his coat pocket again, this time with a larger piece of paper, which he unfolded. It was a cashier's check, made out to Pigeon, for one thousand dollars. He pushed it across the desk.

Pigeon picked it up, glanced at it, and put it in his own pocket.

"You may report your progress to me," said Walker, "every week, until the job is done."

"That won't be necessary," said Pigeon. "You'll know when the job is done." He stood up, shook hands with Mr. Walker, and left the office.

On the way back to the park, Pigeon made a phone call to a friend of his at the local newspaper. The next morning he mailed a letter to the District Attorney's office.

On first day of the following week, it was announced that the DA's office, based upon new evidence, had decided to drop all the charges against the well-known philanthropist James Wilford.

The next day Walker called Pigeon. "I am very impressed, Mr. Pigeon, as I am sure this must be your work. But how did you do it? More to the point, why? I understood you only solve one problem per client. All he asked you to do was to expose that person."

"Wilford never does think very clearly," Pigeon replied. "Which is why he sometimes needs my services. He presumed that if I let the public know the activities of the woman who ran that business, they would arrest her, which would have meant, he thought, getting rid of the kidnapping and other serious charges, leaving only those applying to a rich man indulging his vices. But that, as you warned me, might have put both himself and me in danger of retaliation from a dangerous criminal. It would not have been a useful way to proceed." He paused. "I just did the obvious thing which would achieve a better result. I sent the district attorney a list of prominent clients of that woman's business, suggesting that you would be calling each of them to testify during Wilford's trial."

"Wow! That is clever! But you lied to me, Mr. Pigeon. That was detective work. How else could you know who had patronized her business?"

"I didn't know, Mr. Walker. I still don't. I merely made a list of prominent citizens who might have and suggested them to the DA. Apparently some of them do, or at least they really do not want to testify on that subject. In any case, Mr. Walker, is Mr. Wilford asking me to return his fee?"

"No, Mr. Pigeon. No, he is not."