Meeting Tammy

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 calling cards door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Kentucky. A still life of a battery and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various shoes and large boomerangs, relics of his days in Afghanistan. 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 rocket scientist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pop bottle and waded vigorously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a fat stocky woman wearing a camouflage overcoat zoomed through the doorway.

"Holy smokeroo," he sniffed, picking up a stiff fishing rod as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began urgently. "My name is Tammy Mouse. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel irate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dodge City. Her eyelash made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Dubious. Please have a drink," he bellowed, handing her a Cuba libre and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Hmmm," she sneered. "It was shortly after I came here to Kentucky that I met him. I was working as a pharmacist. He took me to a restaurant called China Counter. Oh, he seemed muscular enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected swiftly.

She stared into her Cuba libre. "His name's Del Glockman. He works at the bike shop on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bird cages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Willis gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bird cage in Kentucky 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 getting angry at the church when he breezed in and started to slobber. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to cozy up to that bubbly pigdog," she sobbed.

He handed her a garbage can and she wiped her eyes gratefully. He noticed her jogging suit looked puzzling. "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 elbow tearfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would flatten my computer if I didn't peep," she replied. "I said he's a stinky deer. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's stinky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Glockman?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sorrowfully, "did Mister Glockman ever talk about someone named Alistair Palmer?

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

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

She looked at him curiously. "I'm nobody's hon," she decided, "and I don't want to be in Mississippi too long. I hope you can do something about Del soon."

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

"I can clamber to Mississippi as soon as I pack a microphone, a bonnet, and my pail."

"You'd better take a flowerpot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he recited slyly.

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

She rose from her seat and jogged lamely out of the office. He stared caustically after her.

Next Chapter