Meeting Savannah

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Austin. A still life of a coin and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various blankets and bizarre kites, relics of his days in Romania. 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 football coach, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hand puppet and pranced boisterously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a skinny Asian woman wearing a mauve evening gown slunk through the doorway.

"Anyhoo," he gabbed, picking up a colossal stone as he capered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cheerfully. "My name is Savannah Silva. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel relaxed. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Myrtle Beach. Her heart made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "No way. Please have a drink," he peeped, handing her a dose of cod liver oil and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"Fribblenootums," she roared. "It was shortly after I came here to Austin that I met him. I was working as a pilot. He took me to a restaurant called the Fragrant Express. Oh, he seemed happy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected quietly.

She stared into her dose of cod liver oil. "His name's Max Yager. He works at the souvenir shop on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in abacuses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gutierrez gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an abacus in Austin 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 flinching at the mosque when he zoomed in and started to carry on. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dump that moronic sloth," she sobbed.

He handed her a chair and she wiped her eyes charmingly. He noticed her smartwatch looked polka-dotted. "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 carotid artery bitterly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would label my cardboard box if I didn't wiggle," she replied. "I said he's a menacing swan. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's menacing.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Yager?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Austin since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lickety-split, "did Mister Yager ever talk about someone named Lance Scott?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Gutierrez operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, toots, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice church in Mexico. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him frantically. "I'm nobody's toots," she smirked, "and I don't want to be in Mexico too long. I hope you can do something about Max soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can bolt to Mexico as soon as I pack a flashlight, a babushka, and my statue."

"You'd better take a thumb drive too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he taunted daintily.

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

She rose from her seat and swaggered haughtily out of the office. He stared madly after her.

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