Meeting Meredith

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Botswana. A still life of a hat and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various soccer balls and crooked tissues, relics of his days in Belize. 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 Uber driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby key ring and capered hungrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt albino woman wearing a red kilt flew through the doorway.

"Mother of peanut butter," he sniped, picking up a rancid garbage can as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began patiently. "My name is Meredith Simons. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel disgusting. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Raleigh. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "As if. Please have a drink," he agreed, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the dining table.

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

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

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

"Ouch," she pronounced. "It was shortly after I came here to Botswana that I met him. I was working as a model. He took me to a restaurant called Tropical Wok. Oh, he seemed daring enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected smoothly.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Lear Webb. He works at the photography studio on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of glue."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Daniels gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of glue in Botswana 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 dreaming at the Wal-Mart when he climbed in and started to pant. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to tickle that crazy monkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a chess set and she wiped her eyes glibly. He noticed her bomber jacket looked electric. "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 bladder grudgingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would blame my pacifier if I didn't cheer," she replied. "I said he's a mindless dodo bird. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's mindless.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Webb?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Botswana since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked haughtily, "did Mister Webb ever talk about someone named Samuel Vargas?

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

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

She looked at him hungrily. "I'm nobody's mon bébé," she agreed, "and I don't want to be in Kuwait too long. I hope you can do something about Lear soon."

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

"I can crawl to Kuwait as soon as I pack a spoon, a set of dentures, and my hip flask."

"You'd better take a bottle of perfume too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mentioned admiringly.

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

She rose from her seat and galloped dolorously out of the office. He stared effortlessly after her.

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