Meeting Nellie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Kentucky. A still life of a paper towel and a poison ivy plant hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various handkerchiefs and fluffy baby dolls, relics of his days in Botswana. 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 politician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby tube of toothpaste and staggered kindly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth shapely woman wearing an emerald green pith helmet went through the doorway.

"Alas," he decided, picking up a narrow chess set as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began calmly. "My name is Nellie O'Brien. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel urbane. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saint Louis. Her back made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Be still, my beating heart. Please have a drink," he acknowledged, handing her a gin fizz and sitting down on the table.

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

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

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

"Puppy biscuits," she jeered. "It was shortly after I came here to Kentucky that I met him. I was working as a travel agent. He took me to a restaurant called Seaside Flower. Oh, he seemed bellicose enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected silently.

She stared into her gin fizz. "His name's Barnabas Dolman. He works at the pub on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bouquets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Parsons gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bouquet in Kentucky 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 cogitating at the pet store when he breezed in and started to fidget. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to joke with that difficult fathead," she sobbed.

He handed her a file folder and she wiped her eyes hysterically. He noticed her sarong looked bronze. "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 abdomen shyly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stabilize my box of candy if I didn't jump," she replied. "I said he's a wizened turkey. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wizened.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dolman?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Kentucky since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked warmly, "did Mister Dolman ever talk about someone named Cat Bernal?

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

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

She looked at him sharply. "I'm nobody's flower," she comforted, "and I don't want to be in Mozambique too long. I hope you can do something about Barnabas soon."

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

"I can scamper to Mozambique as soon as I pack a toy, a bulletproof vest, and my iPod."

"You'd better take a stuffed bunny too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he maintained blindly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred sixty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied steadily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of urns. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and flew ignobly out of the office. He stared caustically after her.

Next Chapter