Meeting Dinah

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Lesotho. A still life of an etching and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various fishhooks and gooey basketballs, relics of his days in Lower Slobbovia. 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 rock musician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPad and swaggered breathlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gigantic brown-eyed woman wearing a tan diamond necklace skittered through the doorway.

"Yow," he crooned, picking up a multicolored pair of dice as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began positively. "My name is Dinah Henry. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel disorganized. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Madison. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Blast. Please have a drink," he retorted, handing her a Dr. Pepper and sitting down on the file cabinet.

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

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

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

"Good golly," she hollered. "It was shortly after I came here to Lesotho that I met him. I was working as a scientist. He took me to a restaurant called the Rolling Hideaway. Oh, he seemed heavyset enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lazily.

She stared into her Dr. Pepper. "His name's Arthur Lancaster. He works at the ice cream parlor on 17th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in suitcases."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Shipman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a suitcase in Lesotho 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 calming down at the taco shop when he sailed in and started to fantasize. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to mock that vacuous low-life," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of knitting needles and she wiped her eyes unnaturally. He noticed her letter jacket looked ornate. "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 nostril intensely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stitch my chain if I didn't adjust the clock," she replied. "I said he's a ladylike troll. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ladylike.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lancaster?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Lesotho since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked daringly, "did Mister Lancaster ever talk about someone named Cornelius Whitney?

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

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

She looked at him suspiciously. "I'm nobody's tootsy-wootsy," she raved, "and I don't want to be in Cambodia too long. I hope you can do something about Arthur soon."

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

"I can amble to Cambodia as soon as I pack a football, a wizard's hat, and my business card."

"You'd better take an advertisement too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he announced lamely.

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

She rose from her seat and straggled cunningly out of the office. He stared sarcastically after her.

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