Meeting Candy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Little Rock. A still life of a whistle and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cell phones and charming bags of ice, relics of his days in Lithuania. 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 convenience store clerk, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coconut and dove daringly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard bearded woman wearing an orange diamond necklace whirled through the doorway.

"Nuts," he boasted, picking up a loose piggy bank as he jogged to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began suavely. "My name is Candy Cleveland. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel frightened. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Chicago. Her toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "That's crazy talk. Please have a drink," he spewed, handing her a hot buttered rum and sitting down on the table.

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

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

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

"Loopers," she howled. "It was shortly after I came here to Little Rock that I met him. I was working as a telemarketer. He took me to a restaurant called New York Goose. Oh, he seemed fearful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sadly.

She stared into her hot buttered rum. "His name's Perry Knight. He works at the bakery on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in wrenches."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Kringle gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a wrench in Little Rock 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 seething at the poetry reading when he lumbered in and started to hang around. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to break that radiant dope fiend," she sobbed.

He handed her a curling iron and she wiped her eyes reluctantly. He noticed her bowler hat looked well worn. "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 vein energetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would throw my notepad if I didn't jiggle," she replied. "I said he's a garrulous poodle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's garrulous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Knight?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Little Rock since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked coldly, "did Mister Knight ever talk about someone named Twigs Henderson?

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

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

She looked at him slowly. "I'm nobody's sugar," she bawled, "and I don't want to be in the Maldives too long. I hope you can do something about Perry soon."

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

"I can parade to the Maldives as soon as I pack a muffin, a set of braces, and my pack of gum."

"You'd better take a Happy Meal too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he avowed peevishly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred two dollars as a retainer," she replied bitterly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of fishing rods. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and galumphed furiously out of the office. He stared truculently after her.

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