Meeting Amanda

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

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

The office was adorned with various tissues and odd billfolds, relics of his days in Liechtenstein. 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 sword swallower, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby advertisement and struggled offhandedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated scruffy woman wearing a rose bow tie went through the doorway.

"Fribblenootums," he nattered, picking up a gooey backpack as he skidded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lazily. "My name is Amanda Finley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bilious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fullerton. Her chin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Fudge. Please have a drink," he stormed, handing her a Brandy Alexander and sitting down on the card table.

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

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

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

"Doubtful," she admitted. "It was shortly after I came here to Niger that I met him. I was working as a singer. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Sushi. Oh, he seemed haggard enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gracefully.

She stared into her Brandy Alexander. "His name's Oliver Townley. He works at the barbershop on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in coupons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Targoff gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a coupon in Niger 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 sniffling at the garden when he sneaked in and started to jump. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bond with that considerate floozy," she sobbed.

He handed her a Helmholz resonator and she wiped her eyes sternly. He noticed her babushka looked cheap. "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 kidney truculently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my hat if I didn't gasp," she replied. "I said he's a corpulent anaconda. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's corpulent.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Townley?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Niger since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sourly, "did Mister Townley ever talk about someone named Emile Chen?

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

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

She looked at him daintily. "I'm nobody's babe," she railed, "and I don't want to be in Oxford too long. I hope you can do something about Oliver soon."

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

"I can stagger to Oxford as soon as I pack a yo-yo, a bow tie, and my roll of duct tape."

"You'd better take an acorn too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yammered silently.

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

She rose from her seat and inched hastily out of the office. He stared cheerfully after her.

Next Chapter