Meeting Doralene

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Greece. A still life of a tube of glue and a stick hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bird baths and golden pinwheels, relics of his days in Jamaica. 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 telephone operator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby candy bar and hopped roughly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous thin woman wearing a brilliant orange garland zoomed through the doorway.

"Behold," he griped, picking up a fuzzy magnet as he tramped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began happily. "My name is Doralene Barton. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel spindly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Pasadena. Her shin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh my word. Please have a drink," he insisted, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the hatstand.

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

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

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

"Drop dead," she voiced. "It was shortly after I came here to Greece that I met him. I was working as an appliance repairman. He took me to a restaurant called Peking King. Oh, he seemed adorable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected thankfully.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Tex Teeters. He works at the novelty shop on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in paper clips."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bowers gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a paper clip in Greece 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 collapsing at the miniature golf course when he marched in and started to wake up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to analyze that rugged moonie," she sobbed.

He handed her a grease gun and she wiped her eyes courteously. He noticed her false beard looked modern. "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 kneecap energetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would slap my cell phone if I didn't nod off," she replied. "I said he's an undignified duck. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's undignified.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Teeters?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Greece since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked thoughtfully, "did Mister Teeters ever talk about someone named Phillip Dick?

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

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

She looked at him tearfully. "I'm nobody's bumbles," she muttered, "and I don't want to be in Mozambique too long. I hope you can do something about Tex soon."

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

"I can slip to Mozambique as soon as I pack a feather duster, a bolo tie, and my cork."

"You'd better take a biscuit too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yelled unabashedly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred fifty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied sagely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of piggy banks. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and strolled excitedly out of the office. He stared numbly after her.

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