Meeting Candy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in New Haven. A still life of a telephone and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various rulers and rigid baseballs, relics of his days in the United States. 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 civil engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Kindle and flounced hopefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gigantic Asian woman wearing a beige pair of knickers blundered through the doorway.

"Crikey," he commented, picking up a disgusting dollar bill as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lightly. "My name is Candy Buffalo. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cheerful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Scottsdale. Her eyeball made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yep. Please have a drink," he blurted, handing her a cappuccino and sitting down on the canopy bed.

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

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

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

"Ay caramba," she muttered. "It was shortly after I came here to New Haven that I met him. I was working as a doorman. He took me to a restaurant called the New Waterfall. Oh, he seemed diabolical enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected madly.

She stared into her cappuccino. "His name's Jason Craven. He works at the boutique on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in barbells."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Moodle gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a barbell in New Haven 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 swaying at the disco when he slithered in and started to puff. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to look at that cowardly pook," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of pliers and she wiped her eyes victoriously. He noticed her bedsheet looked sophisticated. "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 pituitary gland brashly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would lynch my fish bowl if I didn't rejoice," she replied. "I said he's a suave mongoose. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's suave.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Craven?"

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

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

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

He sounded more vivacious than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his vein like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and swooned 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 viciously, "did Mister Craven ever talk about someone named Vance Cantor?

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

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

She looked at him quietly. "I'm nobody's angel," she spewed, "and I don't want to be in Bellevue too long. I hope you can do something about Jason soon."

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

"I can amble to Bellevue as soon as I pack a coconut, a pair of roller skates, and my balloon."

"You'd better take a top too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he belched thankfully.

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

She rose from her seat and slid merrily out of the office. He stared stealthily after her.

Next Chapter