Meeting Mackenzie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in the Swiss Alps. A still life of a Lego set and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various crayons and crooked carrots, relics of his days in Lebanon. 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 elevator operator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of groceries and slumped wryly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite pale woman wearing an amber set of vampire fangs cantered through the doorway.

"Rooster feathers," he worried, picking up a smelly pumpkin as he slipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began stupidly. "My name is Mackenzie Snively. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel furry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Ho Chi Minh City. Her antenna made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ow. Please have a drink," he gabbed, handing her a hot chocolate and sitting down on the cupboard.

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

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

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

"Hee haw," she responded. "It was shortly after I came here to the Swiss Alps that I met him. I was working as a school principal. He took me to a restaurant called the Neighborhood Pasta Bar. Oh, he seemed suave enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected slyly.

She stared into her hot chocolate. "His name's Boots Eisley. He works at the electronics store on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in iPods."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gutierrez gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an iPod in the Swiss Alps 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 snarling at the pet store when he galloped in and started to fall asleep. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to expose that elderly oddball," she sobbed.

He handed her a vacuum cleaner and she wiped her eyes temperamentally. He noticed her bandana looked polka-dotted. "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 thumb properly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would silence my bell if I didn't cry," she replied. "I said he's a moody airedale. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's moody.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Eisley?"

"Only a second; I've only been in the Swiss Alps since then."

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

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

He sounded more pensive 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 showed up for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like baked beans since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked fiercely, "did Mister Eisley ever talk about someone named Garrick Spence?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Gutierrez operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, baby-cakes, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice skyscraper in Sri Lanka. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him queerly. "I'm nobody's baby-cakes," she declared, "and I don't want to be in Sri Lanka too long. I hope you can do something about Boots soon."

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

"I can sprint to Sri Lanka as soon as I pack an arrowhead, a pair of Crocs, and my pen."

"You'd better take a coconut too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he enunciated frenetically.

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

She rose from her seat and trotted dreamily out of the office. He stared cheerfully after her.

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