Meeting Katie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Latvia. A still life of a paper towel and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various acorns and polka-dotted telephones, relics of his days in Mexico. 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 infantryman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stick and sauntered frantically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous large woman wearing a green polo shirt skidded through the doorway.

"If only," he offered, picking up a woven mop as he struggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began coldly. "My name is Katie Feeley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel noxious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Wayne. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "My land. Please have a drink," he spewed, handing her a tonic and sitting down on the bookshelf.

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

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

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

"Bless my britches," she hummed. "It was shortly after I came here to Latvia that I met him. I was working as an artist. He took me to a restaurant called the Asian Fork. Oh, he seemed sweet enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected courteously.

She stared into her tonic. "His name's Lex Weinstein. He works at the art museum on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crackers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Mondegreen gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cracker in Latvia 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 squealing at the pool hall when he crept in and started to shrivel. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to draw strength from that frightened savage," she sobbed.

He handed her a stick and she wiped her eyes victoriously. He noticed her nightgown looked hollow. "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 spinal cord defiantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would sharpen my can of beans if I didn't pace," she replied. "I said he's an amiable bumblebee. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's amiable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Weinstein?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked briskly, "did Mister Weinstein ever talk about someone named Kenny Shackleton?

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

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

She looked at him patiently. "I'm nobody's snuggle bear," she sobbed, "and I don't want to be in Niger too long. I hope you can do something about Lex soon."

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

"I can parade to Niger as soon as I pack an air compressor, a blanket, and my iPad."

"You'd better take a hat too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he warbled shyly.

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

She rose from her seat and marched resignedly out of the office. He stared tenderly after her.

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