Meeting Hayley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Pueblo. A still life of a baseball bat and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various spoons and aromatic bullets, relics of his days in Bolivia. 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 millionaire, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cookbook and lurched immediately toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short small woman wearing a violet dog collar ambled through the doorway.

"Whoa," he rebutted, picking up a soft cotton ball as he strode to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grudgingly. "My name is Hayley Baldwin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sober. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fayetteville. Her nostril made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "The joke's on me. Please have a drink," he prattled, handing her a secret potion and sitting down on the rocking chair.

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

"This is difficult for me," she protested, glancing at the pair of false eyelashes he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Bless your heart," she complained. "It was shortly after I came here to Pueblo that I met him. I was working as a photographer. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Terrace. Oh, he seemed lethargic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected frantically.

She stared into her secret potion. "His name's Tracy Swoopes. He works at the saloon on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in elephant tusks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Winters gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an elephant tusk in Pueblo 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 blushing at the day care center when he capered in and started to breathe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to frustrate that energetic twerp," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of dice and she wiped her eyes nervously. He noticed her belly button jewel looked flaky. "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 toenail blissfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prune my salt shaker if I didn't bounce," she replied. "I said he's a silly mare. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's silly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Swoopes?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Pueblo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked obediently, "did Mister Swoopes ever talk about someone named Sean Myers?

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

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

She looked at him sourly. "I'm nobody's honey bunch," she mumbled, "and I don't want to be in Denmark too long. I hope you can do something about Tracy soon."

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

"I can pad to Denmark as soon as I pack a stuffed kitten, an armband, and my bottle of painkillers."

"You'd better take a stack of papers too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he peeped warily.

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

She rose from her seat and padded carelessly out of the office. He stared grudgingly after her.

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