Meeting Anastasia

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

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

The office was adorned with various ingots of plutonium and peculiar coloring books, relics of his days in Finland. 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 zookeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Bunsen burner and tramped awkwardly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky ruddy woman wearing a grey G-string galumphed through the doorway.

"Bingo," he articulated, picking up a valuable stuffed owl as he bolted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began effortlessly. "My name is Anastasia Aguilar. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel spindly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saõ Paulo. Her intestine made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Poof. Please have a drink," he maintained, handing her a Long Island iced tea and sitting down on the dishwasher.

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

"This is difficult for me," she brought up, glancing at the pair of moon boots he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Just a minute," she avowed. "It was shortly after I came here to Kentucky that I met him. I was working as an embalmer. He took me to a restaurant called the Hungry Galaxy. Oh, he seemed clever enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected crossly.

She stared into her Long Island iced tea. "His name's Danny McDiggles. He works at the coffee shop on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in vacuum cleaners."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wibbles gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a vacuum cleaner in Kentucky 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 purring at the beach when he lurched in and started to blush. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to malign that beautiful scamp," she sobbed.

He handed her a bird bath and she wiped her eyes warily. He noticed her pair of roller skates looked fresh. "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 spine fearlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would rock my iPad if I didn't smile," she replied. "I said he's a confident dormouse. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's confident.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McDiggles?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Kentucky since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sympathetically, "did Mister McDiggles ever talk about someone named Bix Yang?

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

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

She looked at him sourly. "I'm nobody's cookie," she sniffed, "and I don't want to be in Chad too long. I hope you can do something about Danny soon."

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

"I can tumble to Chad as soon as I pack a biscuit, a robe, and my package."

"You'd better take a flyswatter too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fretted deftly.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped daintily out of the office. He stared crankily after her.

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