Meeting Danielle

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Green Bay. A still life of a screwdriver and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various spittoons and speckled brochures, relics of his days in Morocco. 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 veterinarian, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bouquet and sped anxiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small dinky woman wearing a jade dog collar made a beeline through the doorway.

"Tut-tut," he shrieked, picking up an ancient elephant tusk as he leapt to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cruelly. "My name is Danielle MacGibbon. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel weird. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Athens. Her buttocks made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Alrighty. Please have a drink," he requested, handing her a margarita and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Okay," she squealed. "It was shortly after I came here to Green Bay that I met him. I was working as a draftsman. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Express. Oh, he seemed angry enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected accidentally.

She stared into her margarita. "His name's George Holloman. He works at the train depot on 18th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clams."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Keefe gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clam in Green Bay 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 hiccuping at the radio station when he dove in and started to wander. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to shun that cantankerous tramp," she sobbed.

He handed her a cowbell and she wiped her eyes flightily. He noticed her pair of boxing gloves looked leather. "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 kidney carefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would nuke my baton if I didn't shake," she replied. "I said he's a stubborn sasquatch. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's stubborn.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Holloman?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Green Bay since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked dolorously, "did Mister Holloman ever talk about someone named Bart Bennett?

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

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

She looked at him pityingly. "I'm nobody's patootie," she shuddered, "and I don't want to be in the Philippines too long. I hope you can do something about George soon."

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

"I can run to the Philippines as soon as I pack a magnifying glass, a stovepipe hat, and my houseplant."

"You'd better take a potato too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he disputed nicely.

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

She rose from her seat and rolled primly out of the office. He stared primly after her.

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