Meeting Kjersten

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Aurora. A still life of a cigar and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various stuffed kittens and fresh pictures, relics of his days in Kenya. 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 flight mechanic, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPod and sidled gleefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous tattooed woman wearing a black sweater bounded through the doorway.

"Holy moley," he decided, picking up a synthetic supply of courage as he barrelled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sarcastically. "My name is Kjersten Talley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel angry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Paris. Her eyebrow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Uh-oh. Please have a drink," he sniffed, handing her a cup of cocoa and sitting down on the bar stool.

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

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

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

"Why not?," she intimated. "It was shortly after I came here to Aurora that I met him. I was working as a warehouse picker. He took me to a restaurant called the Bronze Bison. Oh, he seemed stinky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected slyly.

She stared into her cup of cocoa. "His name's Maloney Manning. He works at the furniture store on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clothespins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Kelly gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clothespin in Aurora 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 playing Farmer in the Dell at the supermarket when he reeled in and started to burp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pick that comely quacker," she sobbed.

He handed her a sack of potatoes and she wiped her eyes openly. He noticed her dog collar looked rigid. "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 gall bladder hopelessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would smudge my pair of knitting needles if I didn't fall asleep," she replied. "I said he's a distressed bat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's distressed.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Manning?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Aurora since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked coolly, "did Mister Manning ever talk about someone named Matthew Ireland?

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

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

She looked at him solemnly. "I'm nobody's gumdrop," she warbled, "and I don't want to be in France too long. I hope you can do something about Maloney soon."

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

"I can tramp to France as soon as I pack a toothbrush, a fedora, and my stick of gum."

"You'd better take a necklace too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he implored timidly.

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

She rose from her seat and slithered curiously out of the office. He stared proudly after her.

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