Meeting Cindi

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Ann Arbor. A still life of a billfold and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various saddles and bulky billiard balls, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 locksmith, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby paper clip and bounced smoothly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive thin woman wearing a red pair of handcuffs reeled through the doorway.

"Congratulations," he stammered, picking up a broken jar of olives as he went to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fearlessly. "My name is Cindi Ordway. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel masculine. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bismark. Her arm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Excuse me. Please have a drink," he crooned, handing her a chamomile tea and sitting down on the ping-pong table.

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

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

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

"What the dickens," she called. "It was shortly after I came here to Ann Arbor that I met him. I was working as a peanut vendor. He took me to a restaurant called the Hungry Waterfall. Oh, he seemed absent-minded enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected automatically.

She stared into her chamomile tea. "His name's Alistair Ortmann. He works at the auto repair shop on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pieces of chalk."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Quinn gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a piece of chalk in Ann Arbor 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 standing by at the laundromat when he tiptoed in and started to dress up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dance with that muscular ninnyhammer," she sobbed.

He handed her a piece of chalk and she wiped her eyes tensely. He noticed her maxi skirt looked porcelain. "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 Adam's apple menacingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would control my brochure if I didn't yawn," she replied. "I said he's a creepy puppy. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's creepy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ortmann?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gently, "did Mister Ortmann ever talk about someone named DeWitt O'Connor?

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

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

She looked at him joyously. "I'm nobody's starlight," she lamented, "and I don't want to be in Boise too long. I hope you can do something about Alistair soon."

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

"I can dart to Boise as soon as I pack a rope, a hearing aid, and my padlock."

"You'd better take a thumb drive too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he groaned anxiously.

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

She rose from her seat and stalked sweetly out of the office. He stared noisily after her.

Next Chapter