Helpful Hanson


One day there was a strange kind of advertisement in the local paper. 25.000 bucks were being offered to a man willing to take chances for an extraordinary job that could only be performed once. Jack Hanson was interested and replied to the ad. A few days later he received an envelope including a note written on a typewriter that said he should ring a certain phone-number in case he was really interested. He rang that number and a strangely whispering voice told him about the job. Actually the advertiser wanted to get rid of somebody. The next day they wanted to meet for further details.

It was a cold and quiet evening when Jack arrived where he had been told to go: Just one of these typical suburban coffee-bars - a music-box, a waitress looking extremely bored, a lot of plastic everywhere, a filthy mirror behind the bar. He ordered something to drink and waited. He was just beginning to feel uncomfortable when the door opened and a woman came in.

No, not just a woman - a goddess all dressed up in a black leather-suit, shiny and strange, her eyes hidden behind some Greta-Garbo-sunglasses, her fiery red hair abundantly framing a face of extraordinary beauty.

Your name’s Jack Hanson? she asked in a voice that went perfectly well to her smashing appearance.

He nodded.

Let’s go then, she added. We can talk things over in my car.

And so he found himself on the front-seat of a ‘98-Mercedes-Benz gliding noiselessly through the evening.

For a certain time none of them said a word.

At last it was the man who broke the silence.

We’re talking about murder, aren’t we?

She smiled.

I knew you’d think so. But in fact we’re not.

The car turned to the right and followed a broad avenue Jack had never been to before.

Don’t want you to be a murderer.

She hesitated for a moment.

I want you to be a lover.

Then, with a kind of nervous laughter in her voice:

I want you to be m y lover. And that’s all.


Her name was Lydia and she was fourty-eight. She was quite well-off, her husband making a lot of money in the real-estate-biz. In fact she led a life of luxury. Her sons doing well as lawyers and civil servants, there was nothing left for her to do. And - most unusual with people like hers - she had a husband so faithful and devoted to her that he had never even thought of other women. As a matter of fact - during the last few years he hadn’t thought of his own wife as a woman as well...

That was one half of the problem, the other one was a girl named Jennifer. To a certain extend she took the place of the daughter Lydia had been longing for so eagerly when she was younger, having sons one after another. They had met on one of those fashionable parties Lydia found so boring, and they had fallen into a furious love-affair at once. Some weeks later she told her husband everything - but he just didn’t care. He was so extremely indifferent towards her!

Of course he said he loved her and that he didn’t like the idea of his wife lying in the arms of another woman... But, nevertheless, it was nothing serious, just some kind of girlish affair, funny somehow. Nothing to worry about. No, he wouldn’t agree to her idea of getting divorced, of course not. If she fell in love to another man... - that would be different indeed.


Jack thought about the job. There was nothing dangerous about it and it was paid very well.

He didn’t feel scrupulous at all: A blockhead like that didn’t deserve a woman like her, did he?

One Monday morning he put on a fresh shirt and had his hair cut. They met in the hall of the office building with all those shiny signboards. When they were waiting for the lift they smiled at each other like good old friends...

The young secretary almost fainted when he pushed her aside and flung the door open.

Lydia’s husband looked very pale and did not even try to make any trouble. Yes, of course, he would phone his lawyer’s office this afternoon. He even wished them luck. It was no use fighting against lovers like them anyway. And getting divorced was not the end of the world, was it?.


Some weeks later on his way home Jack had to stop his car in a traffic jam. It was a warm and sunny afternoon. People were wearing summer clothes already. There were those two women over there going window-shopping. The older one - an impressively elegant goddess from Harper’s - was laughing happily while the beautiful little blonde was whispering into her ear. A picture of perfect harmony.

Jack knew: What he had done was right. There was no doubt about it.

He leaned back in his seat and accelerated his car. It was rather new, and he really loved it..

Oben Unten