Meeting Agnes

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in the Marshall Islands. A still life of a shovel and a bit of litter hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various file folders and huge brochures, relics of his days in Nigeria. 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 appliance repairman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby trash can and hopped fervently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small undersized woman wearing a black pair of safety glasses sneaked through the doorway.

"Holy smokes," he yowled, picking up a woven flowerpot as he bounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sympathetically. "My name is Agnes Smiley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel stern. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Perth. Her toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Uh. Please have a drink," he implored, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the table.

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

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

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

"Shoot," she whimpered. "It was shortly after I came here to the Marshall Islands that I met him. I was working as a diplomat. He took me to a restaurant called Midtown Dragon. Oh, he seemed careful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fearlessly.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Adam Wilhelm. He works at the travel agency on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spools of thread."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Steinbeck gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spool of thread in the Marshall Islands 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 barfing at the tanning salon when he stalked in and started to slobber. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to poke that yappy turkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a painting and she wiped her eyes accidentally. He noticed her midi skirt looked hefty. "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 buttocks immediately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would whip my crayon if I didn't chortle," she replied. "I said he's a beautiful snake. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's beautiful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Wilhelm?"

"Only a month; I've only been in the Marshall Islands since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked ruefully, "did Mister Wilhelm ever talk about someone named Mickey Messina?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Steinbeck 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 subway tunnel in Mozambique. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

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

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

"I can reel to Mozambique as soon as I pack a church key, a set of vampire fangs, and my banana."

"You'd better take a flashlight too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he expressed surreptitiously.

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

She rose from her seat and galloped strangely out of the office. He stared courageously after her.

Next Chapter