Meeting Kristen

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Madagascar. A still life of a flash drive and a pine cone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bird baths and big artificial flowers, 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 microbiologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby paper towel and pranced lamely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall unkempt woman wearing a hot pink visor sauntered through the doorway.

"Yoohoo," he yelped, picking up a slimy dish as he ambled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began openly. "My name is Kristen Richards. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel desperate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Pasadena. Her lip made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "You bet. Please have a drink," he persisted, handing her a glass of lemonade and sitting down on the TV.

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

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

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

"Jeepers creepers," she babbled. "It was shortly after I came here to Madagascar that I met him. I was working as a manicurist. He took me to a restaurant called Singapore Empire. Oh, he seemed cautious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected excitedly.

She stared into her glass of lemonade. "His name's Andrew Boyce. He works at the jewelry store on 3rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bats."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Countryman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bat in Madagascar 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 primping at the carnival when he sauntered in and started to snort. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stalk that charming blatherskite," she sobbed.

He handed her a carrot and she wiped her eyes excitedly. He noticed her set of dentures looked striped. "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 bladder offhandedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would describe my roll of toilet paper if I didn't giggle," she replied. "I said he's an absent-minded chimpanzee. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's absent-minded.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Boyce?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Madagascar 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 Andrew Boyce is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked blissfully, "did Mister Boyce ever talk about someone named Tex Eastwood?

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

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

She looked at him lamely. "I'm nobody's sunshine," she yammered, "and I don't want to be in Lexington too long. I hope you can do something about Andrew soon."

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

"I can flounce to Lexington as soon as I pack a can of soup, a fedora, and my needle and thread."

"You'd better take a spittoon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he spewed fondly.

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

She rose from her seat and reeled unexpectedly out of the office. He stared coldly after her.

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