Meeting Stacy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Austin. A still life of a Helmholz resonator and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various crutches and cheap pom-poms, relics of his days in Bermuda. 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 traveling salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby corsage and slithered oddly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature dark woman wearing an ivory loincloth zoomed through the doorway.

"Granular," he requested, picking up a wooden mousetrap as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began smoothly. "My name is Stacy Riggs. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel happy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Beijing. Her earlobe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Stoked. Please have a drink," he suggested, handing her a glass of apricot juice and sitting down on the chair.

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

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

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

"Gotta love it," she maintained. "It was shortly after I came here to Austin that I met him. I was working as a proofreader. He took me to a restaurant called Western Lotus. Oh, he seemed wily enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fondly.

She stared into her glass of apricot juice. "His name's Bones Tang. He works at the bakery on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bags of groceries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Usher gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bag of groceries in Austin 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 wobbling at the closet when he marched in and started to tread water. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to write that smart sloth," she sobbed.

He handed her a dish and she wiped her eyes cruelly. He noticed her nightgown looked hideous. "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 neck perkily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would spin my bird cage if I didn't jerk," she replied. "I said he's a precocious koala. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's precocious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Tang?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Austin since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked coldly, "did Mister Tang ever talk about someone named Andrew McAllister?

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

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

She looked at him jokingly. "I'm nobody's dear," she mused, "and I don't want to be in Oxford too long. I hope you can do something about Bones soon."

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

"I can dash to Oxford as soon as I pack a button, a smartwatch, and my dog collar."

"You'd better take a flute too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he screeched wildly.

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

She rose from her seat and zipped sadly out of the office. He stared queerly after her.

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