Meeting Yvonne

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Detroit. A still life of a yo-yo and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pom-poms and polished stuffed bunnies, relics of his days in Myanmar. 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 au pair, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby banana and sashayed sarcastically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal blond woman wearing a forest green straitjacket jumped through the doorway.

"Buzzards," he sneered, picking up a disgusting bat as he skittered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began threateningly. "My name is Yvonne Bennett. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dependable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Baku. Her spinal cord made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sweet. Please have a drink," he maintained, handing her a whiskey sour and sitting down on the water bed.

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

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

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

"Durn it," she trumpeted. "It was shortly after I came here to Detroit that I met him. I was working as a fortune teller. He took me to a restaurant called Szechuan Taqueria. Oh, he seemed dowdy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ferociously.

She stared into her whiskey sour. "His name's Buck Workman. He works at the burger joint on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in helmets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Katz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a helmet in Detroit 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 screeching at the party when he tumbled in and started to think. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to go out with that poised gump," she sobbed.

He handed her a cookie and she wiped her eyes boisterously. He noticed her locket looked gleaming. "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 mouth hopelessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would select my sack if I didn't relax," she replied. "I said he's a considerate ferret. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's considerate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Workman?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Detroit since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked frantically, "did Mister Workman ever talk about someone named Rick Bernstein?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Katz 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 sod house in Delaware. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

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

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

"I can struggle to Delaware as soon as I pack a piggy bank, a bomber jacket, and my magnet."

"You'd better take a notepad too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he said nimbly.

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

She rose from her seat and slumped crazily out of the office. He stared woefully after her.

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