Meeting Katy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in New Haven. A still life of a biscuit and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various photographs and stolen bowls, relics of his days in Ecuador. 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 sign painter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dart and trekked energetically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous bald woman wearing a rose gown tumbled through the doorway.

"Oh joy," he barked, picking up a weird roll of duct tape as he slumped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began daintily. "My name is Katy Collins. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel adorable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Manitoba. Her tongue made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Who says?. Please have a drink," he prattled, handing her a fruit smoothie and sitting down on the footstool.

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

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

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

"Nope," she spewed. "It was shortly after I came here to New Haven that I met him. I was working as an air horn player. He took me to a restaurant called Midtown Dining Room. Oh, he seemed pigeon-toed enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected thankfully.

She stared into her fruit smoothie. "His name's Sean Giddings. He works at the bus station on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of toothpaste."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nussbaum gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of toothpaste in New Haven 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 typing at the K-Mart when he scampered in and started to get rigid. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to peck at that elderly dip," she sobbed.

He handed her a chair and she wiped her eyes silently. He noticed her parka looked puzzling. "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 paw fervently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would smash my church key if I didn't apologize," she replied. "I said he's a sassy walrus. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sassy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Giddings?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in New Haven since then."

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

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

He sounded more dreadful than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his Adam's apple like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and sniffed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like turpentine since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked happily, "did Mister Giddings ever talk about someone named Alexander Singh?

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

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

She looked at him tensely. "I'm nobody's honey," she sniped, "and I don't want to be in Slovenia too long. I hope you can do something about Sean soon."

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

"I can run to Slovenia as soon as I pack a rock, a bikini, and my Helmholz resonator."

"You'd better take a teddy bear too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he answered suspiciously.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped cheerfully out of the office. He stared ingeniously after her.

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