Meeting LaDonna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in South Bend. A still life of a flashlight and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various carrots and filthy candles, relics of his days in Hungary. 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 police officer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby vase and slipped gracefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied slick woman wearing a sea green award medal lumbered through the doorway.

"Darn," he gabbed, picking up a nice pumpkin as he sped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began threateningly. "My name is LaDonna Pence. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel careful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Mobile. Her tail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Cheers. Please have a drink," he belched, handing her a Mountain Dew and sitting down on the pillow.

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

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

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

"Holy smokeroo," she announced. "It was shortly after I came here to South Bend that I met him. I was working as a coach. He took me to a restaurant called the Stone Peacock. Oh, he seemed decisive enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected angrily.

She stared into her Mountain Dew. "His name's Trent O'Connor. He works at the police station on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in corncobs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gare gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a corncob in South Bend 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 creeping at the garden when he leapt in and started to sniff. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to watch that elderly nag," she sobbed.

He handed her a paper towel and she wiped her eyes fervently. He noticed her bra 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 brain warily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would mend my rubber chicken if I didn't gaze," she replied. "I said he's a stinky lobster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's stinky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. O'Connor?"

"Only a week; I've only been in South Bend since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked irritably, "did Mister O'Connor ever talk about someone named Jeff Van Dorn?

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

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

She looked at him truculently. "I'm nobody's rose petal," she yelped, "and I don't want to be in Denver too long. I hope you can do something about Trent soon."

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

"I can tramp to Denver as soon as I pack a primrose, a lab coat, and my peace pipe."

"You'd better take a cookbook too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he bragged threateningly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's sixty-four dollars as a retainer," she replied sheepishly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Band-aids. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and staggered kindly out of the office. He stared frantically after her.

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