Meeting Dani

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Kansas. A still life of a bag of ice and a bit of litter hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various baby dolls and fancy coins, relics of his days in Cambodia. 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 sailor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPhone and slithered resignedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky cute woman wearing a polka dotted pair of khakis cantered through the doorway.

"Alas," he mused, picking up a waxy cigar as he stalked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began demurely. "My name is Dani Nguyen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel somber. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Little Rock. Her knee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Roger. Please have a drink," he screeched, handing her a hot chocolate and sitting down on the washing machine.

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

"This is difficult for me," she snorted, glancing at the 'I'm with Stupid' shirt he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Thanks for nothing," she hissed. "It was shortly after I came here to Kansas that I met him. I was working as a detective. He took me to a restaurant called the City Organics. Oh, he seemed zany enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected uneasily.

She stared into her hot chocolate. "His name's Marcus MacKenzie. He works at the shoe store on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in telephone books."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Gonzales gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a telephone book 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 dawdling at the basement when he padded in and started to seethe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to recoil from that demented villain," she sobbed.

He handed her a pinwheel and she wiped her eyes threateningly. He noticed her pair of knickers looked striped. "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 belly merrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would heat my football if I didn't squeak," she replied. "I said he's a masculine penguin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's masculine.'"

"How long have you known Mr. MacKenzie?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Kansas since then."

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

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

He sounded more grizzled than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his kidney like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and apologized for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fresh-baked bread since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked dreamily, "did Mister MacKenzie ever talk about someone named Stu Fosbender?

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

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

She looked at him numbly. "I'm nobody's friend," she babbled, "and I don't want to be in Ohio too long. I hope you can do something about Marcus soon."

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

"I can roll to Ohio as soon as I pack a spittoon, a garland, and my pair of knitting needles."

"You'd better take a fishing pole too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sneered vacantly.

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

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

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