Meeting Ashley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Billings. A still life of a cigarette and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various basketballs and dusty cigarettes, relics of his days in Slovenia. 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 florist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Band-aid and scurried hastily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine olive woman wearing a crimson pair of moon boots trotted through the doorway.

"Granular," he thought, picking up a miniature key ring as he reeled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began courageously. "My name is Ashley Nicholas. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel rugged. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Jose. Her palm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh my word. Please have a drink," he spouted, handing her a margarita and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Ooh," she pointed out. "It was shortly after I came here to Billings that I met him. I was working as an invalid. He took me to a restaurant called Philadelphia Farmer. Oh, he seemed ungainly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected elatedly.

She stared into her margarita. "His name's Garrick Hudson. He works at the butcher shop on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toothbrushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Schreiber gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toothbrush in Billings 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 quivering at the Wal-Mart when he galumphed in and started to apologize. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stun that fuzzy wretch," she sobbed.

He handed her a dictionary and she wiped her eyes glibly. He noticed her pair of sandals looked weird. "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 appendix courageously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would reconsider my lemon if I didn't wail," she replied. "I said he's a boring rattlesnake. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's boring.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hudson?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Billings since then."

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

"Okay, so this Garrick Hudson 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 nostril like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and went limp for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like old books since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked greedily, "did Mister Hudson ever talk about someone named Dakota Cadwallader?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an air kiss.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Schreiber operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, light of my life, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice A-frame in Liechtenstein. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him courteously. "I'm nobody's light of my life," she snorted, "and I don't want to be in Liechtenstein too long. I hope you can do something about Garrick soon."

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

"I can tramp to Liechtenstein as soon as I pack a yardstick, a false beard, and my rock."

"You'd better take a book too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he urged ingeniously.

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

She rose from her seat and clambered breathlessly out of the office. He stared zestily after her.

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