Meeting Brenda

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Japan. A still life of a football and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various watering cans and hefty pairs of scissors, relics of his days in Bangladesh. 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 helicopter pilot, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby shovel and pranced shakily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky beautiful woman wearing a white pacifier slumped through the doorway.

"OMG," he yawned, picking up a flexible baton as he slid to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began needlessly. "My name is Brenda Fancypants. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel earnest. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Denton. Her eyebrow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "My word. Please have a drink," he gasped, handing her an iced tea and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Son of a gun," she contended. "It was shortly after I came here to Japan that I met him. I was working as a barista. He took me to a restaurant called Main Street Dinner. Oh, he seemed tired enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected swiftly.

She stared into her iced tea. "His name's Gunther Bowe. He works at the art gallery on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pizzas."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Locke gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pizza in Japan 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 coming over at the library when he hobbled in and started to holler. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to joke with that sketchy fuddy-duddy," she sobbed.

He handed her a bilge pump and she wiped her eyes carelessly. He noticed her pair of contact lenses looked used. "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 jaw doubtfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would wax my napkin if I didn't spit," she replied. "I said he's a lively moose. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lively.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bowe?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Japan since then."

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

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

He sounded more pigeon-toed than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his carotid artery like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and looked dumb for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a pot of stew since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked resignedly, "did Mister Bowe ever talk about someone named Sven Collins?

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

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

She looked at him glibly. "I'm nobody's baby-doll," she sighed, "and I don't want to be in Gainesville too long. I hope you can do something about Gunther soon."

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

"I can reel to Gainesville as soon as I pack a duffel bag, a tailcoat, and my vase."

"You'd better take a bird bath too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he gasped wryly.

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

She rose from her seat and sauntered gleefully out of the office. He stared calmly after her.

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