Meeting Minnie

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

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

The office was adorned with various stuffed bunnies and burned photographs, relics of his days in Georgia. 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 ice cream vendor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pearl and dove stupidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious disheveled woman wearing a jade toga jogged through the doorway.

"Yowee," he protested, picking up an old notepad as he dashed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sorrowfully. "My name is Minnie Orman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel irate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Antonio. Her piehole made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Unreal. Please have a drink," he boasted, handing her a glass of apple juice and sitting down on the carpet.

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

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

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

"Eeshk," she wailed. "It was shortly after I came here to Hawaii that I met him. I was working as a trader. He took me to a restaurant called Moroccan Deli. Oh, he seemed dumb enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected arrogantly.

She stared into her glass of apple juice. "His name's Cecil Bean. He works at the boutique on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boxes of Kleenex."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sludge gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a box of Kleenex in Hawaii 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 staring into space at the closet when he whirled in and started to gesticulate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to reassure that thoughtful louse," she sobbed.

He handed her a piece of chalk and she wiped her eyes irritably. He noticed her set of football pads looked filthy. "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 skull frenetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bathe my hip flask if I didn't glower," she replied. "I said he's an atrocious Dalmatian. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's atrocious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bean?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked warmly, "did Mister Bean ever talk about someone named Elijah Childs?

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

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

She looked at him glumly. "I'm nobody's honey," she laughed, "and I don't want to be in Tallahassee too long. I hope you can do something about Cecil soon."

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

"I can galumph to Tallahassee as soon as I pack a sack of potatoes, a belt, and my diamond."

"You'd better take a bag too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mumbled gently.

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

She rose from her seat and bolted coldly out of the office. He stared furiously after her.

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