Meeting Nadine

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Mississippi. A still life of a vacuum cleaner and a piece of driftwood hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bedpans and slimy bells, relics of his days in Israel. 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 novelist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby napkin and inched bravely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous flabby woman wearing a crimson wig sneaked through the doorway.

"Eww," he panted, picking up a flexible dish as he padded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grimly. "My name is Nadine Baggins. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel decisive. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Ottawa. Her abdomen made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "The joke's on you. Please have a drink," he argued, handing her a mint julep and sitting down on the settee.

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

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

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

"Great," she screeched. "It was shortly after I came here to Mississippi that I met him. I was working as a grocer. He took me to a restaurant called the City Buffet. Oh, he seemed poised enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected openly.

She stared into her mint julep. "His name's Norm Kissling. He works at the burger joint on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fingernail clippers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McCray gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fingernail clipper in Mississippi 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 jerking at the supermarket when he jumped in and started to huff. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to call that dreadful stumblebum," she sobbed.

He handed her a crayon and she wiped her eyes effortlessly. He noticed her pair of shin guards looked frilly. "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 calf elatedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my can of shaving cream if I didn't scratch," she replied. "I said he's a sassy lovebird. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sassy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kissling?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Mississippi since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked proudly, "did Mister Kissling ever talk about someone named Bum Berry?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the McCray operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, noodle, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice mobile home in the Philippines. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him wearily. "I'm nobody's noodle," she exclaimed, "and I don't want to be in the Philippines too long. I hope you can do something about Norm soon."

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

"I can sashay to the Philippines as soon as I pack a candle, a T-shirt, and my billfold."

"You'd better take a pain pill too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he comforted hopefully.

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

She rose from her seat and dove caustically out of the office. He stared wryly after her.

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