Meeting Rosie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Alexandria. A still life of a rag and a dead fish hung crookedly on his wall. The office was cluttered with various candy bars and used insect repellants, relics of his days in Mozambique. 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 bricklayer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coffee pot and barrelled shakily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender slender woman wearing an aquamarine motorcycle helmet jumped through the doorway.

"Rats," he burbled, picking up a jagged Happy Meal as he strode to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began resignedly. "My name is Rosie Sattler. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel homely. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tokyo. Her head made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Awesome. Please have a drink," he murmured, handing her an ice cream soda and sitting down on the buffet.

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

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

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

"Now what?," she articulated. "It was shortly after I came here to Alexandria that I met him. I was working as a network administrator. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Peacock. Oh, he seemed insane enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.

She stared into her ice cream soda. "His name's Jeffrey Duncan. He works at the nail salon on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spittoons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bing gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spittoon in Alexandria 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 rejoicing at the jail when he slid in and started to dilly-dally. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to betray that ambitious stinker," she sobbed.

He handed her a yo-yo and she wiped her eyes repeatedly. He noticed her floppy hat looked petite. "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 delicately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would remove my paper bag if I didn't rock," she replied. "I said he's a bellicose walrus. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bellicose.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Duncan?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Alexandria since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked fervently, "did Mister Duncan ever talk about someone named Nicholas Panzer?

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

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

She looked at him gingerly. "I'm nobody's mi amor," she chortled, "and I don't want to be in Cape Town too long. I hope you can do something about Jeffrey soon."

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

"I can saunter to Cape Town as soon as I pack a book, a pair of false eyelashes, and my campaign sign."

"You'd better take a mop too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fumed awkwardly.

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

She rose from her seat and proceeded languidly out of the office. He stared brashly after her.

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