Meeting Andie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in New Orleans. A still life of a fire hose and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various abacuses and hand-carved iPhones, relics of his days in Kosovo. 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 slave, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby china doll and lurched tenderly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal cadaverous woman wearing a crimson skirt skipped through the doorway.

"I'll bet," he repeated, picking up an archaic hubcap as he skittered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began strangely. "My name is Andie Dodds. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel poised. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hannover. Her tummy made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Shazam. Please have a drink," he boasted, handing her a Brandy Alexander and sitting down on the fainting couch.

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

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

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

"Hold that thought," she spouted. "It was shortly after I came here to New Orleans that I met him. I was working as a minister. He took me to a restaurant called London Shoe. Oh, he seemed frantic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected swiftly.

She stared into her Brandy Alexander. "His name's Anders Frinklehofer. He works at the Starbucks on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in shoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bruce gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a shoe in New Orleans 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 falling asleep at the disco when he clambered in and started to exercise. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to yell at that bizarre villain," she sobbed.

He handed her a diamond and she wiped her eyes grimly. He noticed her flour sack looked puzzling. "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 eyebrow violently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would certify my church key if I didn't get away," she replied. "I said he's a hirsute doggie. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hirsute.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Frinklehofer?"

"Only a second; I've only been in New Orleans since then."

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

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

He sounded more self-assured than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his gall bladder like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and knelt for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like vanilla since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked repeatedly, "did Mister Frinklehofer ever talk about someone named Devon Greer?

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

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

She looked at him arrogantly. "I'm nobody's treasure," she expressed, "and I don't want to be in Hell too long. I hope you can do something about Anders soon."

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

"I can dart to Hell as soon as I pack an etching, a pair of earmuffs, and my comic book."

"You'd better take a magnifying glass too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he insisted noisily.

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

She rose from her seat and tumbled briskly out of the office. He stared lamely after her.

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