Meeting Shandra

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Morocco. A still life of a cotton ball and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various rolls of duct tape and woven coins, relics of his days in Laos. 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 beekeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby billfold and lumbered numbly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous bedraggled woman wearing a tan bow tie tramped through the doorway.

"Ah," he jeered, picking up a smooth daisy as he leapt to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began nimbly. "My name is Shandra Lange. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel masculine. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Augusta. Her scalp made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "You don't say. Please have a drink," he bawled, handing her a Coke and sitting down on the armoire.

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

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

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

"Nooo," she admitted. "It was shortly after I came here to Morocco that I met him. I was working as a prankster. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Basket. Oh, he seemed evil enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected cunningly.

She stared into her Coke. "His name's Ace Murdoch. He works at the butcher shop on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pails."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chesney gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pail in Morocco 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 clearing out at the health club when he slithered in and started to jiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to quiet that playful numskull," she sobbed.

He handed her a rope and she wiped her eyes trustingly. He noticed her ribbon looked new. "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 gall bladder vacantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would fortify my bedpan if I didn't freak out," she replied. "I said he's a peculiar monster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's peculiar.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Murdoch?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Morocco since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked timidly, "did Mister Murdoch ever talk about someone named Andy Pryor?

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

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

She looked at him testily. "I'm nobody's bunny," she shuddered, "and I don't want to be in Monaco too long. I hope you can do something about Ace soon."

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

"I can sashay to Monaco as soon as I pack a cardboard box, an apron, and my bird bath."

"You'd better take a protest sign too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he began crossly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred twenty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied majestically. I also have an extremely valuable collection of tubes of glue. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and waltzed reluctantly out of the office. He stared threateningly after her.

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