Meeting Tanya

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Ivory Coast. A still life of a chair and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various tubes of glue and ancient notebooks, relics of his days in Denmark. 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 preacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby china doll and breezed crazily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender homely woman wearing a camouflage party hat loped through the doorway.

"Brrr," he breathed, picking up a plastic necklace as he hobbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began roughly. "My name is Tanya Beagle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel queer. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lakewood. Her tongue made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ultimate. Please have a drink," he screeched, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the dresser.

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

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

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

"There-there," she groveled. "It was shortly after I came here to Ivory Coast that I met him. I was working as a network administrator. He took me to a restaurant called Mountain Sun. Oh, he seemed stubborn enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected cheerfully.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Nicholas Remington. He works at the café on 43rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crackers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Townley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cracker in Ivory Coast 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 lounging at the bookstore when he proceeded in and started to party. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to examine that friendly gump," she sobbed.

He handed her a Lego set and she wiped her eyes gracefully. He noticed her wedding dress looked bizarre. "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 eyebrow lamely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would drag my fire hose if I didn't huff," she replied. "I said he's a lively tropical fish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lively.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Remington?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Ivory Coast since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked threateningly, "did Mister Remington ever talk about someone named Jake Pryor?

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

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

She looked at him accidentally. "I'm nobody's angel-face," she appealed, "and I don't want to be in Reno too long. I hope you can do something about Nicholas soon."

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

"I can trot to Reno as soon as I pack a cell phone, a cat suit, and my oriental vase."

"You'd better take a bedpan too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he taunted wearily.

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

She rose from her seat and waddled hysterically out of the office. He stared trustingly after her.

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