Meeting Fanny

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Calcutta. A still life of a backpack and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various dog collars and gross chains, relics of his days in Cameroon. 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 high school teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bedpan and zoomed doubtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous undersized woman wearing a lavender skeleton costume set out through the doorway.

"Achoo," he affirmed, picking up a flaky stick as he jumped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began oddly. "My name is Fanny David. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel agitated. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dubai. Her nostril made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Really. Please have a drink," he lamented, handing her a glass of champagne and sitting down on the futon.

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

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

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

"Castor and Pollux! Blow me to Bermuda," she opined. "It was shortly after I came here to Calcutta that I met him. I was working as a crime scene investigator. He took me to a restaurant called the Hungry Greasy Spoon. Oh, he seemed colorless enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected roughly.

She stared into her glass of champagne. "His name's Steven Roe. He works at the psychic reading business on 44th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of scissors."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Prang gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of scissors in Calcutta 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 itching at the dance when he sped in and started to flail. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hypnotize that ignoble oddball," she sobbed.

He handed her a primrose and she wiped her eyes sweetly. He noticed her 'I'm with Stupid' shirt looked coarse. "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 finger brightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grab my pair of knitting needles if I didn't seethe," she replied. "I said he's an enchanting Norway rat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's enchanting.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Roe?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Calcutta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sagely, "did Mister Roe ever talk about someone named Marty Cannon?

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

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

She looked at him ferociously. "I'm nobody's honey-bunny," she piped up, "and I don't want to be in Mumbai too long. I hope you can do something about Steven soon."

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

"I can proceed to Mumbai as soon as I pack a diary, a space suit, and my teddy bear."

"You'd better take a dollhouse too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he shouted lazily.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk sympathetically out of the office. He stared cruelly after her.

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