Meeting Molly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in St. Petersburg. A still life of an Egyptian mummy and a stick hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cotton balls and damp peanuts, relics of his days in the United States. 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 mystic, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bagpipe and slithered speedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight olive woman wearing a golden towel ambled through the doorway.

"Castor and Pollux! Blow me to Bermuda," he retorted, picking up a small salt shaker as he slunk to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began numbly. "My name is Molly Ross. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dependable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Sapporo. Her paw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Blecch. Please have a drink," he contended, handing her a hot buttered rum and sitting down on the stairway.

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

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

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

"Is that a fact," she sniped. "It was shortly after I came here to St. Petersburg that I met him. I was working as an errand runner. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Forest. Oh, he seemed precocious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected frantically.

She stared into her hot buttered rum. "His name's Caleb Barnes. He works at the used car lot on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pinwheels."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Draney gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pinwheel in St. Petersburg 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 exhaling at the Elvis chapel when he flew in and started to ruminate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to wink at that agile snake," she sobbed.

He handed her a fish and she wiped her eyes sagely. He noticed her tutu looked bizarre. "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 carotid artery menacingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bleach my teddy bear if I didn't chatter," she replied. "I said he's a selfish muskrat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's selfish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Barnes?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in St. Petersburg since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked flightily, "did Mister Barnes ever talk about someone named Logan Cheetham?

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

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

She looked at him sadly. "I'm nobody's homie," she indicated, "and I don't want to be in Augusta too long. I hope you can do something about Caleb soon."

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

"I can sail to Augusta as soon as I pack a blank check, a belly button jewel, and my kite."

"You'd better take a doily too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he stated offhandedly.

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

She rose from her seat and flounced menacingly out of the office. He stared softly after her.

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