Meeting Diane

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Latvia. A still life of an iPod and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various teddy bears and cotton watering cans, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 elephant tusk salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby camera and pranced unabashedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf gangling woman wearing a tan diamond necklace skipped through the doorway.

"By Jove," he contended, picking up an old Van Gogh as he sailed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began smoothly. "My name is Diane Sanders. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel witty. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Irving. Her rib made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Eeshk. Please have a drink," he protested, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the counter.

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

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

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

"Encore," she simpered. "It was shortly after I came here to Latvia that I met him. I was working as a nuclear physicist. He took me to a restaurant called the Hungry Saloon. Oh, he seemed prissy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected angrily.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Freddie Dingwell. He works at the convenience store on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pieces of chalk."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Garvey gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a piece of chalk in Latvia 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 doing the Hokey Pokey at the swimming pool when he sashayed in and started to squint. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to surprise that dismal ninnyhammer," she sobbed.

He handed her a chamber pot and she wiped her eyes nervously. He noticed her tank top looked abnormal. "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 forehead immediately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dislodge my elephant tusk if I didn't groan," she replied. "I said he's an annoying bat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's annoying.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dingwell?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Latvia since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked courageously, "did Mister Dingwell ever talk about someone named Alex Domínguez?

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

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

She looked at him warmly. "I'm nobody's mopsy," she admitted, "and I don't want to be in Mississippi too long. I hope you can do something about Freddie soon."

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

"I can lumber to Mississippi as soon as I pack a garbage can, a coonskin hat, and my pizza."

"You'd better take a campaign sign too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he insisted zestily.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled gingerly out of the office. He stared miserably after her.

Next Chapter