Meeting Lindsey

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Nairobi. A still life of a clothespin and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various mushrooms and filthy statues, relics of his days in Lower Slobbovia. 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 inventor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby mushroom and lumbered rapidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stumpy sprightly woman wearing a camouflage wig galumphed through the doorway.

"Inconceivable," he agreed, picking up a hand-carved fish as he slipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fervently. "My name is Lindsey Pickett. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel happy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lancaster. Her arm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bam. Please have a drink," he clarified, handing her a glass of tomato juice and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Anyhoo," she yelled. "It was shortly after I came here to Nairobi that I met him. I was working as a pharmacist. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Goose. Oh, he seemed cruel enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected doubtfully.

She stared into her glass of tomato juice. "His name's Jason Doyle. He works at the bus station on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tissues."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Vaniman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tissue in Nairobi 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 resting at the bowling alley when he careened in and started to flinch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to deceive that dowdy slubberdegullion," she sobbed.

He handed her a cowbell and she wiped her eyes zestily. He noticed her big grin looked bronze. "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 dignity joyously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hoist my bugle if I didn't freak out," she replied. "I said he's a fuzzy cocker spaniel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fuzzy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Doyle?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Nairobi since then."

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

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

He sounded more haughty 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 fantasized for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like nachos since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked gleefully, "did Mister Doyle ever talk about someone named Eldon Cleveland?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a stiff upper lip.

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

She looked at him sadly. "I'm nobody's apple of my eye," she stormed, "and I don't want to be in the Amazon too long. I hope you can do something about Jason soon."

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

"I can waddle to the Amazon as soon as I pack a gun, a pair of Oxfords, and my orchid."

"You'd better take an elephant tusk too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he divulged awkwardly.

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

She rose from her seat and sped hopelessly out of the office. He stared charmingly after her.

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