Meeting Shawna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Montgomery. A still life of an urn and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various coconuts and ornate orchids, relics of his days in England. 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 usher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby book and lurched recklessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short undersized woman wearing a chartreuse wig reeled through the doorway.

"Oh well," he vowed, picking up a frilly shovel as he slunk to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began nervously. "My name is Shawna Holloman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cocky. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Eugene. Her arm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Weird. Please have a drink," he reminded, handing her a Harvey Wallbanger and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Okay then," she maintained. "It was shortly after I came here to Montgomery that I met him. I was working as a messenger. He took me to a restaurant called the New Food Truck. Oh, he seemed queer enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected perkily.

She stared into her Harvey Wallbanger. "His name's White Cloud Dewey. He works at the gym on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in protest signs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nyberg gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a protest sign in Montgomery 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 school cafeteria when he swaggered in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stare at that excitable sneak," she sobbed.

He handed her a gun and she wiped her eyes fearfully. He noticed her blouse looked mechanical. "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 face carefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would banish my stuffed owl if I didn't whistle," she replied. "I said he's a jolly burro. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's jolly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dewey?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked properly, "did Mister Dewey ever talk about someone named Eubie Van Hook?

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

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

She looked at him glumly. "I'm nobody's pookie," she muttered, "and I don't want to be in Little Rock too long. I hope you can do something about White Cloud soon."

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

"I can saunter to Little Rock as soon as I pack a bird cage, a thong, and my map."

"You'd better take a clam too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sighed glibly.

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

She rose from her seat and slithered stupidly out of the office. He stared suavely after her.

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