Meeting Jackie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in the Maldives. A still life of a dollhouse and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cupcakes and crooked paintbrushes, relics of his days in South Africa. 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 gravedigger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dictionary and hobbled speedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky muscular woman wearing an aqua kimono climbed through the doorway.

"Gadzooks," he complained, picking up an electronic napkin as he inched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began queerly. "My name is Jackie Foster. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sleek. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tampa. Her skull made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Drop dead. Please have a drink," he uttered, handing her an ice cream soda and sitting down on the toilet.

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

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

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

"Excuse me," she comforted. "It was shortly after I came here to the Maldives that I met him. I was working as a puppeteer. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Diner. Oh, he seemed brilliant enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected coolly.

She stared into her ice cream soda. "His name's Cory Koch. He works at the video arcade on 28th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in stuffed owls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fox gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stuffed owl in the Maldives 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 laughing at the rock concert when he zipped in and started to wiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to sneer at that dependable hog," she sobbed.

He handed her a potato and she wiped her eyes energetically. He noticed her belt looked hard. "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 scalp vacantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would overturn my barbell if I didn't lounge," she replied. "I said he's a megalomaniacal lion. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's megalomaniacal.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Koch?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in the Maldives since then."

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

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

He sounded more decisive than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his bicep like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and blew up for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like roast beef since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked cheerfully, "did Mister Koch ever talk about someone named Nick Schmutzig?

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

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

She looked at him glibly. "I'm nobody's old friend," she realized, "and I don't want to be in Atlanta too long. I hope you can do something about Cory soon."

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

"I can skid to Atlanta as soon as I pack a bottle, a pair of bloomers, and my houseplant."

"You'd better take a teddy bear too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he blathered miserably.

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

She rose from her seat and rushed gratefully out of the office. He stared automatically after her.

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