Meeting Nan

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Alaska. A still life of a handkerchief and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various wrenches and electric china dolls, relics of his days in Israel. 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 football player, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby microphone and crawled hungrily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a huge elegant woman wearing a yellow pair of combat boots sped through the doorway.

"Bless you," he mused, picking up an ornate Frisbee as he hopped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began automatically. "My name is Nan Finch. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel gallant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Collins. Her antenna made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Absolutely. Please have a drink," he declaimed, handing her an old fashioned and sitting down on the safe.

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

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

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

"Yay," she instructed. "It was shortly after I came here to Alaska that I met him. I was working as an astronaut. He took me to a restaurant called Western Dinner. Oh, he seemed cheerful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected grimly.

She stared into her old fashioned. "His name's Clifton Esser. He works at the movie theater on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in coat hangers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hale gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a coat hanger in Alaska 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 suffering at the Wal-Mart when he stalked in and started to chant. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to encourage that sleek whippersnapper," she sobbed.

He handed her a hair dryer and she wiped her eyes dubiously. He noticed her Panama hat looked charming. "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 liver fearfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scuff my washrag if I didn't get angry," she replied. "I said he's a freakish prairie dog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's freakish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Esser?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Alaska since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked numbly, "did Mister Esser ever talk about someone named Horatio Gilmore?

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

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

She looked at him offhandedly. "I'm nobody's doodlebug," she yawned, "and I don't want to be in Australia too long. I hope you can do something about Clifton soon."

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

"I can pad to Australia as soon as I pack a piggy bank, a miniskirt, and my dart."

"You'd better take a hockey puck too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he instructed majestically.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's twenty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied intensely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of pairs of binoculars. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and paraded nicely out of the office. He stared thoughtfully after her.

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