Meeting Anna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Atlanta. A still life of a bedpan and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various paper clips and woven basketballs, relics of his days in Serbia. 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 mail carrier, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby business card and bounced nimbly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal homely woman wearing a silver 'I'm with Stupid' shirt trekked through the doorway.

"Golly whiz," he bawled, picking up a funny pair of headphones as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began elatedly. "My name is Anna Robinson. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sexy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Palmdale. Her heel made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Fine. Please have a drink," he mentioned, handing her a cup of eggnog and sitting down on the mattress.

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

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

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

"Crud," she requested. "It was shortly after I came here to Atlanta that I met him. I was working as an Internet celebrity. He took me to a restaurant called the Roman Bison. Oh, he seemed rapacious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lightly.

She stared into her cup of eggnog. "His name's Harley Fancypants. He works at the cigar store on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in salt shakers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Brown gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a salt shaker in Atlanta 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 trembling at the jail when he hobbled in and started to chew. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to compliment that puzzled ninnyhammer," she sobbed.

He handed her a stick and she wiped her eyes woodenly. He noticed her romper looked huge. "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 jaw zestily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would watch my fishhook if I didn't adjust the clock," she replied. "I said he's a brave sloth. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's brave.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Fancypants?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Atlanta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked woodenly, "did Mister Fancypants ever talk about someone named Hoss Wapner?

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

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

She looked at him rapidly. "I'm nobody's moonbeam," she clarified, "and I don't want to be in Nepal too long. I hope you can do something about Harley soon."

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

"I can storm to Nepal as soon as I pack an acorn, a fur coat, and my acorn."

"You'd better take a tote bag too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he proposed fervently.

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

She rose from her seat and flounced smoothly out of the office. He stared hungrily after her.

Next Chapter