Meeting Wanda

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Nepal. A still life of a dart and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various clams and rusty stamps, relics of his days in Samoa. 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 typing teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby toothbrush and tore ignobly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky sleek woman wearing a blue hair net loped through the doorway.

"Very well done," he snorted, picking up an archaic dog collar as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began curiously. "My name is Wanda Schmuckley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel crazy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Davenport. Her antenna made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bam. Please have a drink," he vowed, handing her a glass of papaya juice and sitting down on the umbrella stand.

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

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

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

"Marvelous," she pointed out. "It was shortly after I came here to Nepal that I met him. I was working as a chief of police. He took me to a restaurant called Tokyo Temple. Oh, he seemed bold enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sheepishly.

She stared into her glass of papaya juice. "His name's Rover Crabtree. He works at the perfumery on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dollhouses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lange gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dollhouse in Nepal 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 applauding at the school cafeteria when he zoomed in and started to turn blue. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to encourage that silly sloth," she sobbed.

He handed her a brush and she wiped her eyes primly. He noticed her pair of shin guards looked gleaming. "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 belly tearfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would beat my muffin if I didn't burp," she replied. "I said he's a sexy muskrat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sexy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Crabtree?"

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

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

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

He sounded more homely than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his gall bladder like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and lay around in bed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like coffee since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked threateningly, "did Mister Crabtree ever talk about someone named Tex Johnson?

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

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

She looked at him firmly. "I'm nobody's sunshine," she jeered, "and I don't want to be in Uganda too long. I hope you can do something about Rover soon."

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

"I can climb to Uganda as soon as I pack an iPad, a bracelet, and my Van Gogh."

"You'd better take a chair too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he crooned lazily.

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

She rose from her seat and tore narrowly out of the office. He stared doubtfully after her.

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