Meeting Jacqueline

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Kansas. A still life of a compass and a raspberry bush hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various tubes of glue and queer ashtrays, relics of his days in Honduras. 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 preacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cane and slipped thoughtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated adorable woman wearing a carrot-orange pair of shoes galloped through the doorway.

"Great Jehosaphat," he gabbed, picking up an authentic bedpan as he flounced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lickety-split. "My name is Jacqueline Yager. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel diabolical. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Kampala. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Durn it. Please have a drink," he snorted, handing her a Bloody Mary and sitting down on the pillow.

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

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

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

"Darn," she continued. "It was shortly after I came here to Kansas that I met him. I was working as an usher. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Sandwich Shop. Oh, he seemed fashionable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected intensely.

She stared into her Bloody Mary. "His name's Gus Pryor. He works at the video arcade on 23rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flowers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Normal gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flower in Kansas 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 barfing at the juice shop when he waddled in and started to wiggle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to forget that gentle villain," she sobbed.

He handed her a toilet plunger and she wiped her eyes unexpectedly. He noticed her cap looked disgusting. "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 joyously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would refine my tube of glue if I didn't come along," she replied. "I said he's a considerate crow. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's considerate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pryor?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Kansas since then."

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

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

He sounded more self-assured 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 fidgeted for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like trouble since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked lovingly, "did Mister Pryor ever talk about someone named Parson Green?

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

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

She looked at him dreamily. "I'm nobody's beefcake," she rambled, "and I don't want to be in Kiev too long. I hope you can do something about Gus soon."

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

"I can lope to Kiev as soon as I pack a basket, an award medal, and my diagram."

"You'd better take a can of soup too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he wondered madly.

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

She rose from her seat and bounded lazily out of the office. He stared sweetly after her.

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