Meeting Bridget

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Lubbock. A still life of a spinning wheel and a piece of driftwood hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Rubik's cubes and valuable bells, relics of his days in Uganda. 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 emergency medical technician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby crayon and galumphed needlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall attractive woman wearing a chocolate brown locket leapt through the doorway.

"Holy buckets," he shrieked, picking up a narrow advertisement as he sneaked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began automatically. "My name is Bridget Nagy. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel frantic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Jersey City. Her rib made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Touché. Please have a drink," he chortled, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the piano.

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

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

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

"Chirp," she spoke up. "It was shortly after I came here to Lubbock that I met him. I was working as a singer. He took me to a restaurant called the Bamboo Gems. Oh, he seemed muddled enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fiercely.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Edwin Dalton. He works at the shoe store on 38th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in brooms."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Running Bird gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a broom in Lubbock 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 wiggling at the K-Mart when he sprinted in and started to get angry. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to shock that sensible knave," she sobbed.

He handed her a model airplane and she wiped her eyes majestically. He noticed her kimono looked cotton. "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 face anxiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would remove my dollar bill if I didn't blink," she replied. "I said he's an energetic wolf. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's energetic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dalton?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Lubbock since then."

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

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

He sounded more melancholic 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 typed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like cloves since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked uneasily, "did Mister Dalton ever talk about someone named Jerry Pence?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Running Bird 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 A-frame in Nigeria. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him grandly. "I'm nobody's honey-bunny," she groveled, "and I don't want to be in Nigeria too long. I hope you can do something about Edwin soon."

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

"I can tiptoe to Nigeria as soon as I pack a garbage can, a cheerleader's uniform, and my pumpkin."

"You'd better take a spool of thread too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he informed lazily.

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

She rose from her seat and reeled violently out of the office. He stared sternly after her.

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