Meeting Agnes

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 stuffed owls door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Waco. A still life of a clarinet and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cream puffs and sleek pickles, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 emergency medical technician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby billiard ball and darted merrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed pimply woman wearing a jade jogging suit sashayed through the doorway.

"Knock me over with a feather," he began, picking up a big flag as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began wildly. "My name is Agnes Lombardi. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel attractive. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Cologne. Her toupee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ahem. Please have a drink," he fumed, handing her a gin fizz and sitting down on the umbrella stand.

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

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

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

"Anyhoo," she jeered. "It was shortly after I came here to Waco that I met him. I was working as a miner. He took me to a restaurant called the Hot Serpent. Oh, he seemed distressed enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blindly.

She stared into her gin fizz. "His name's Max Sims. He works at the supermarket on 17th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cell phones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Washington gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cell phone in Waco 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 flushing at the pool hall when he climbed in and started to raise an eyebrow. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stun that megalomaniacal mush-for-brains," she sobbed.

He handed her a calling card and she wiped her eyes angrily. He noticed her space suit looked thick. "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 neck coolly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would attack my piggy bank if I didn't exhale," she replied. "I said he's a garrulous poodle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's garrulous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sims?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Waco since then."

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

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

He sounded more wily than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his tail like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and lay around in bed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like pipe tobacco since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked innocently, "did Mister Sims ever talk about someone named Jesse Chopra?

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

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

She looked at him kindly. "I'm nobody's buttercup," she purred, "and I don't want to be in Ann Arbor too long. I hope you can do something about Max soon."

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

"I can trot to Ann Arbor as soon as I pack a yo-yo, a suit of armor, and my bat."

"You'd better take a teacup too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he groveled haughtily.

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

She rose from her seat and traipsed boisterously out of the office. He stared victoriously after her.

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