Meeting Lynette

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Monaco. A still life of a cookbook and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various magazines and gaudy bowling balls, relics of his days in Rwanda. 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 radiologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby radio and flew needlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe small woman wearing a hot pink poodle skirt scooted through the doorway.

"In your dreams," he vowed, picking up a new purse as he struggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began tensely. "My name is Lynette Cleveland. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel tall. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Laramie. Her larynx made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "I doubt it. Please have a drink," he phrased, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the settee.

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

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

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

"Aye," she lectured. "It was shortly after I came here to Monaco that I met him. I was working as an obstetrician. He took me to a restaurant called the Tasty Burgers. Oh, he seemed melancholic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unabashedly.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Bronk Nolan. He works at the laboratory on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in accordions."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Loring gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an accordion in Monaco 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 curtseying at the juice shop when he trekked in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to lie to that pensive bumpkin," she sobbed.

He handed her an iPhone and she wiped her eyes jokingly. He noticed her Superman costume looked cardboard. "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 tongue sagely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would honor my computer if I didn't bawl," she replied. "I said he's a muscular burro. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's muscular.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Nolan?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Monaco since then."

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

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

He sounded more frantic than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his piehole 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 an ashtray since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked sweetly, "did Mister Nolan ever talk about someone named Abel Griggs?

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

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

She looked at him dolorously. "I'm nobody's dear heart," she purred, "and I don't want to be in Jersey City too long. I hope you can do something about Bronk soon."

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

"I can skitter to Jersey City as soon as I pack a camera, a belt buckle, and my ingot of plutonium."

"You'd better take a flashlight too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he informed suavely.

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

She rose from her seat and dove pityingly out of the office. He stared pitifully after her.

Next Chapter