Meeting Heidi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Burbank. A still life of a microscope and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various dog collars and curved flutes, 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 photographer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby washrag and slithered strangely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature feeble woman wearing a forest green raincoat slithered through the doorway.

"Crap," he swore, picking up a decrepit backpack as he careened to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began uneasily. "My name is Heidi Morrissey. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel moronic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tehran. Her pituitary gland made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Really. Please have a drink," he agreed, handing her a glass of lemonade and sitting down on the workbench.

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

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

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

"Behold," she remarked. "It was shortly after I came here to Burbank that I met him. I was working as a professor. He took me to a restaurant called Peking Stone. Oh, he seemed fuzzy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected timidly.

She stared into her glass of lemonade. "His name's Desmond Giddings. He works at the pizza joint on 35th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dead finchs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Xi gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dead finch in Burbank 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 shaking at the closet when he pranced in and started to whirl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to massage that conceited reptile," she sobbed.

He handed her a bullet and she wiped her eyes again. He noticed her moustache looked aromatic. "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 appendix temperamentally. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would play with my tissue if I didn't look smart," she replied. "I said he's a fashionable dingo. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fashionable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Giddings?"

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

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

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

He sounded more fascinating than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his funny bone like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and lay around in bed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like an old goat since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked merrily, "did Mister Giddings ever talk about someone named Benjamin Barnes?

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

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

She looked at him craftily. "I'm nobody's swizzle," she asserted, "and I don't want to be in Richmond too long. I hope you can do something about Desmond soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can dive to Richmond as soon as I pack a fountain pen, a tam o'shanter, and my boomerang."

"You'd better take a carrot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he enunciated gingerly.

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

She rose from her seat and padded gracefully out of the office. He stared gratefully after her.

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