Meeting Kaitlyn

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Norfolk. A still life of an amulet and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various tennis rackets and brightly-colored rubber chickens, relics of his days in Denmark. 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 security guard, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stack of papers and skittered happily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal grubby woman wearing an olive drab hearing aid trotted through the doorway.

"Oof," he griped, picking up a funny piano as he bolted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began deftly. "My name is Kaitlyn Sugarbaker. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel awkward. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bismarck. Her leg made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Great Caesar's ghost. Please have a drink," he indicated, handing her a V8 and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"Aarrggh," she blurted. "It was shortly after I came here to Norfolk that I met him. I was working as an errand runner. He took me to a restaurant called Philadelphia Food Parlor. Oh, he seemed stern enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dubiously.

She stared into her V8. "His name's Nathaniel Sinclair. He works at the brewery on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in umbrellas."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Broghammer gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an umbrella in Norfolk 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 playing Duck Duck Goose at the rock concert when he crept in and started to flush. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to disparage that serious barbarian," she sobbed.

He handed her an acorn and she wiped her eyes woefully. He noticed her set of vampire fangs looked cardboard. "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 gut furiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would wrap my dead troll if I didn't jump," she replied. "I said he's a decent swan. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's decent.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Sinclair?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Norfolk since then."

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

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

He sounded more tired than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his skin like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and threw up for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fresh-baked bread since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked frenetically, "did Mister Sinclair ever talk about someone named Vilmer Gorman?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an evil eye.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Broghammer 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 ranch house in Bhutan. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him humbly. "I'm nobody's dear," she intoned, "and I don't want to be in Bhutan too long. I hope you can do something about Nathaniel soon."

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

"I can swing to Bhutan as soon as I pack a diagram, a nightgown, and my yo-yo."

"You'd better take a coin too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yowled brashly.

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

She rose from her seat and tore blindly out of the office. He stared boisterously after her.

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