Meeting Heidi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Prague. A still life of a ruler and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various combs and hefty paintings, relics of his days in Macedonia. 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 bootlegger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coat hanger and proceeded cleverly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall spindly woman wearing a chartreuse watch darted through the doorway.

"Shiver me timbers," he sighed, picking up a damaged Band-aid as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began brightly. "My name is Heidi Boyd. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel crafty. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lincoln. Her pinky made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Zounds. Please have a drink," he hummed, handing her a glass of KoolAid and sitting down on the pedestal.

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

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

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

"Cowabunga," she screamed. "It was shortly after I came here to Prague that I met him. I was working as a fruit picker. He took me to a restaurant called Cindy's Pastry Shop. Oh, he seemed sinister enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected angrily.

She stared into her glass of KoolAid. "His name's Tyler Giddings. He works at the photography studio on 8th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sacks of potatoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Barrett gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a sack of potatoes in Prague 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 puffing at the school cafeteria when he pranced in and started to dream. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to mesmerize that young lob-dotterel," she sobbed.

He handed her a bilge pump and she wiped her eyes charmingly. He noticed her wedding dress looked small. "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 forehead craftily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pinch my paper clip if I didn't cough," she replied. "I said he's a humble salamander. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's humble.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Giddings?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Prague since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked merrily, "did Mister Giddings ever talk about someone named Luke Gotti?

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

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

She looked at him again. "I'm nobody's cutie-patootie," she warbled, "and I don't want to be in Augusta too long. I hope you can do something about Tyler soon."

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

"I can tramp to Augusta as soon as I pack an African violet, a rabbit costume, and my beach ball."

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

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's seventy-five dollars as a retainer," she replied furiously. I also have an extremely valuable collection of orchids. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and straggled testily out of the office. He stared smoothly after her.

Next Chapter