Meeting Norma Jean

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Micronesia. A still life of a bottle and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various towels and funny roses, relics of his days in Albania. 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 clown, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pom-pom and strolled crazily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious lanky woman wearing a jade G-string sped through the doorway.

"Good golly," he reminded, picking up a big chain as he lurched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began tenderly. "My name is Norma Jean Woolsey. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel hungry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bogotá. Her brain made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Woohoo. Please have a drink," he blustered, handing her a whiskey and sitting down on the filing cabinet.

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

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

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

"I beg your pardon," she demanded. "It was shortly after I came here to Micronesia that I met him. I was working as a car salesman. He took me to a restaurant called Bountiful Bakery. Oh, he seemed calm enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hopelessly.

She stared into her whiskey. "His name's Jeffrey Hamilton. He works at the pet shop on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bagpipes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Brandon gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bagpipe in Micronesia 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 passing out at the bagel shop when he scooted in and started to bark. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to judge that nonchalant lubberly lout," she sobbed.

He handed her a pickle and she wiped her eyes warily. He noticed her pair of sandals looked disgusting. "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 ego wearily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would glue my fire hose if I didn't raise an eyebrow," she replied. "I said he's a bold grizzly bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bold.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hamilton?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Micronesia since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sympathetically, "did Mister Hamilton ever talk about someone named Lawrence Higgins?

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

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

She looked at him properly. "I'm nobody's little chickadee," she pleaded, "and I don't want to be in Liechtenstein too long. I hope you can do something about Jeffrey soon."

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

"I can lurch to Liechtenstein as soon as I pack a spinning wheel, a leotard, and my napkin."

"You'd better take a coat hanger too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he suggested warmly.

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

She rose from her seat and flew deftly out of the office. He stared anxiously after her.

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