Meeting Megan

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in the United Arab Emirates. A still life of a hockey puck and an egg shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various lemons and magnificent spinning wheels, relics of his days in Haiti. 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 clockmaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby top and trotted fearfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly lanky woman wearing an orange ring stalked through the doorway.

"Lordy," he bragged, picking up a rare chess set as he loped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began menacingly. "My name is Megan Windle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel shifty. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Portland. Her intestine made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Poof. Please have a drink," he comforted, handing her a gin and tonic and sitting down on the dresser.

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

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

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

"Ooh," she blathered. "It was shortly after I came here to the United Arab Emirates that I met him. I was working as a dance instructor. He took me to a restaurant called the City Bliss. Oh, he seemed direct enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected majestically.

She stared into her gin and tonic. "His name's Doc Brunken. He works at the Hallmark shop on 32nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in feathers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McGrath gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a feather in the United Arab Emirates 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 glaring at the recycling bin when he sailed in and started to expectorate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to satisfy that angry coward," she sobbed.

He handed her an amulet and she wiped her eyes ruefully. He noticed her tattoo looked automatic. "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 aorta needlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bathe my broom if I didn't stand by," she replied. "I said he's a depraved pheasant. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's depraved.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Brunken?"

"Only a day; I've only been in the United Arab Emirates since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked fervently, "did Mister Brunken ever talk about someone named Joseph Steele?

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

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

She looked at him ingeniously. "I'm nobody's angel," she harangued, "and I don't want to be in Austin too long. I hope you can do something about Doc soon."

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

"I can galumph to Austin as soon as I pack a pearl, a necktie, and my picture."

"You'd better take a bucket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he warbled warily.

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

She rose from her seat and danced sweetly out of the office. He stared peevishly after her.

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