Meeting Lizzie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Thailand. A still life of a stuffed kitten and a bird's nest hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various muffins and bizarre charts, relics of his days in Egypt. 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 jailer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishing rod and climbed violently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated white woman wearing a fuchsia bathrobe trotted through the doorway.

"Yo ho ho," he snarled, picking up a hefty bag as he darted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began shyly. "My name is Lizzie Baird. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel brash. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Charlotte. Her shin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "When pigs fly. Please have a drink," he began, handing her a hot chocolate and sitting down on the pool table.

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

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

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

"Goodness me," she stammered. "It was shortly after I came here to Thailand that I met him. I was working as a taxi driver. He took me to a restaurant called Riverside Taqueria. Oh, he seemed brazen enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected slowly.

She stared into her hot chocolate. "His name's Ryan Brunken. He works at the storage unit on 32nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of fuzzy dice."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Proctor gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of fuzzy dice in Thailand 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 scratching at the pet store when he dashed in and started to gasp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to laugh at that freakish fuddy-duddy," she sobbed.

He handed her a hot potato and she wiped her eyes excitedly. He noticed her camisole looked terra cotta. "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 front tooth brightly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scratch my spinning wheel if I didn't snicker," she replied. "I said he's a boring bunny. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's boring.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Brunken?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Thailand since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked energetically, "did Mister Brunken ever talk about someone named Newt McGraw?

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

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

She looked at him ingeniously. "I'm nobody's honey bunch," she conversed, "and I don't want to be in Birmingham too long. I hope you can do something about Ryan soon."

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

"I can fly to Birmingham as soon as I pack a candy bar, a pair of boxing gloves, and my bottle of painkillers."

"You'd better take a sack too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he queried warily.

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

She rose from her seat and waded warily out of the office. He stared pitifully after her.

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