Meeting Dierdre

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Colorado. A still life of a whoopee cushion and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various paintbrushes and miniature Barbie dolls, relics of his days in Denmark. 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 sheriff, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby piece of paper and skidded quietly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive adorable woman wearing a silver bolo tie traipsed through the doorway.

"Ppppbbbft," he whined, picking up a shiny suitcase as he reeled to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel tired. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Delhi. Her pancreas made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yowsers. Please have a drink," he babbled, handing her a secret potion and sitting down on the billiard table.

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

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

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

"I beg your pardon," she clarified. "It was shortly after I came here to Colorado that I met him. I was working as an ichthyologist. He took me to a restaurant called Berlin Bistro. Oh, he seemed dependable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected tearfully.

She stared into her secret potion. "His name's Louis Lee. He works at the pharmacy on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in skulls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tucker gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a skull in Colorado 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 burping at the day care center when he careened in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to yell at that paranoid cheater," she sobbed.

He handed her a potato and she wiped her eyes resignedly. He noticed her pair of handcuffs looked flaky. "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 eyelid carefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stab my book if I didn't daydream," she replied. "I said he's a coy butterfly. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's coy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lee?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Colorado since then."

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

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

He sounded more paranoid than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his calf like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got along for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like blue cheese since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked arrogantly, "did Mister Lee ever talk about someone named Daniel Mitchell?

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

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

She looked at him caustically. "I'm nobody's honey," she blustered, "and I don't want to be in Bangkok too long. I hope you can do something about Louis soon."

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

"I can bolt to Bangkok as soon as I pack a cupcake, a gold medal, and my grease gun."

"You'd better take a saw too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mumbled smoothly.

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

She rose from her seat and trekked effortlessly out of the office. He stared viciously after her.

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