Meeting Amanda

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought effortlessly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling mops door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Alaska. A still life of a sack of potatoes and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various towels and delicate tubes of glue, relics of his days in Peru. Not exactly his glory days, but these days hardly qualify either.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Enter," he yelled. Probably another creditor or musician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Band-aid and tiptoed uneasily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a skinny elderly woman wearing a green cloak breezed through the doorway.

"Ka-ching," he wailed, picking up a stiff tablet computer as he scooted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began defiantly. "My name is Amanda Eppley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel lively. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bismarck. Her wig made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hold your horses. Please have a drink," he babbled, handing her a glass of carrot juice and sitting down on the armoire.

"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."

"This is difficult for me," she grieved, glancing at the pair of moccasins he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

"Don't give it another thought," he replied dubiously.

"I'm so sure," she intoned. "It was shortly after I came here to Alaska that I met him. I was working as a fashion designer. He took me to a restaurant called the Hot Plate. Oh, he seemed timid enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected mysteriously.

She stared into her glass of carrot juice. "His name's Anders Talley. He works at the laboratory on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toilet seats."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Schneider gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toilet seat in Alaska that hasn't passed through their hands."

"I don't know about that, but I wish I had never heard of the guy. "I was doodling at the bagel shop when he bolted in and started to sniffle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bore that carefree lackwit," she sobbed.

He handed her an iPod and she wiped her eyes boldly. He noticed her Eton jacket looked fancy. "So what happened between the two of you?"

"When I found out what he was up to, I told him I wanted no part of it."

He rubbed his tongue admiringly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would mutilate my iPhone if I didn't fall asleep," she replied. "I said he's a frantic duck. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's frantic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Talley?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Alaska since then."

"I see." He felt for his blank stare in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

"Okay, so this Anders Talley is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

He sounded more jaunty than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his dignity like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and inhaled for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a barnyard since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked sharply, "did Mister Talley ever talk about someone named Ronnie Hobbs?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a grimace.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Schneider operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, honey-babe, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice Spanish colonial in Malta. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him numbly. "I'm nobody's honey-babe," she sputtered, "and I don't want to be in Malta too long. I hope you can do something about Anders soon."

"I'll do my best, big lug. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can breeze to Malta as soon as I pack a purse, a pair of galoshes, and my bicycle."

"You'd better take an antenna too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he prattled accidentally.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred eighty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied flightily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of serpents. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and jumped sleepily out of the office. He stared sarcastically after her.

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