Meeting Pam

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Botswana. A still life of a lollipop and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bags of potato chips and burned advertisements, relics of his days in Serbia. 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 hit man, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby magnifying glass and tumbled hopelessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious fair woman wearing a maroon lab coat leapt through the doorway.

"Barf," he boomed, picking up a ridged dog biscuit as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gratefully. "My name is Pam Binkley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel athletic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Antonio. Her toupee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ten-four. Please have a drink," he chimed, handing her a shot of whiskey and sitting down on the bed.

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

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

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

"Ultimate," she judged. "It was shortly after I came here to Botswana that I met him. I was working as a soldier. He took me to a restaurant called the New Wingding. Oh, he seemed jolly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected effortlessly.

She stared into her shot of whiskey. "His name's Archie Spangler. He works at the café on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Happy Meals."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bruno gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Happy Meal in Botswana 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 getting angry at the taco shop when he zipped in and started to peep. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to baffle that colorless doofus," she sobbed.

He handed her a sack of potatoes and she wiped her eyes dolorously. He noticed her fur coat looked delicate. "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 front tooth suddenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would plasticize my watering can if I didn't wink," she replied. "I said he's a sexy butterfly. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sexy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Spangler?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Botswana since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked perkily, "did Mister Spangler ever talk about someone named Garth Rutherford?

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

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

She looked at him arrogantly. "I'm nobody's honey pie," she declared, "and I don't want to be in Argentina too long. I hope you can do something about Archie soon."

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

"I can scurry to Argentina as soon as I pack an orchid, a bikini, and my teddy bear."

"You'd better take an orchid too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sighed menacingly.

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

She rose from her seat and made a beeline sharply out of the office. He stared truculently after her.

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