Meeting Agnes

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Nauru. A still life of a hammer and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various Van Goghs and gooey sticks of gum, relics of his days in Indonesia. 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 therapist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cane and zoomed vigorously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small dark woman wearing a chartreuse pair of flip-flops lurched through the doorway.

"Bam," he uttered, picking up a hand-painted chess set as he inched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began obediently. "My name is Agnes Holloman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sweet. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Boston. Her paw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bada bing bada boom. Please have a drink," he boomed, handing her a Long Island iced tea and sitting down on the wine rack.

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

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

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

"Ho ho," she jeered. "It was shortly after I came here to Nauru that I met him. I was working as an executioner. He took me to a restaurant called the Galloping Platter. Oh, he seemed silly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hopefully.

She stared into her Long Island iced tea. "His name's Dakota Rawlings. He works at the tattoo parlor on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in computers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Potts gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a computer in Nauru 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 vegetating at the health food store when he made a beeline in and started to watch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to punch that paranoid hog," she sobbed.

He handed her a cigarette and she wiped her eyes craftily. He noticed her pair of panties looked odd. "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 adrenal gland happily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would replace my floppy disk if I didn't die," she replied. "I said he's a phlegmatic panther. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's phlegmatic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Rawlings?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Nauru since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked fervently, "did Mister Rawlings ever talk about someone named Wayne Franklin?

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

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

She looked at him pityingly. "I'm nobody's beloved," she decided, "and I don't want to be in India too long. I hope you can do something about Dakota soon."

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

"I can clamber to India as soon as I pack a stick of gum, a fur coat, and my twig."

"You'd better take a clam too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he alleged oddly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred ninety-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied daintily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of toilet seats. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sped gleefully out of the office. He stared perkily after her.

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