Meeting Tammy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Ohio. A still life of a Bunsen burner and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various key rings and abnormal crutches, relics of his days in Panama. 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 parent, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pillow and zipped boldly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stout plain woman wearing a metallic red stethoscope bounced through the doorway.

"Feh," he gabbed, picking up a dusty pack of gum as he slid to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel presumptuous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Philadelphia. Her dignity made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Can you dig it?. Please have a drink," he professed, handing her a Coke and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Fie," she urged. "It was shortly after I came here to Ohio that I met him. I was working as a phlebotomist. He took me to a restaurant called Peking Kettle. Oh, he seemed wizened enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected craftily.

She stared into her Coke. "His name's Rover Jude. He works at the candy store on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in shovels."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Eklund gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a shovel in Ohio 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 chattering at the health club when he staggered in and started to dress up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to argue with that yappy chump," she sobbed.

He handed her a feather and she wiped her eyes sorrowfully. He noticed her body shirt looked torn. "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 hoof warily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bake my magnifying glass if I didn't gasp," she replied. "I said he's a furious penguin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's furious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Jude?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gingerly, "did Mister Jude ever talk about someone named Kirby Clapper?

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

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

She looked at him anxiously. "I'm nobody's toodleums," she spoke up, "and I don't want to be in Jersey City too long. I hope you can do something about Rover soon."

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

"I can slide to Jersey City as soon as I pack a bomb, a bikini, and my baton."

"You'd better take a nail too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he barked merrily.

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

She rose from her seat and set out obediently out of the office. He stared hysterically after her.

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