Meeting Angie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in the Maldives. A still life of a pail and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various paper bags and gigantic toys, relics of his days in Saudi Arabia. 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 newscaster, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby duffel bag and reeled proudly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dainty graceful woman wearing a violet belt buckle dashed through the doorway.

"I'll bet," he sniped, picking up a gaudy sack as he staggered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ruefully. "My name is Angie Vaniman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel loving. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Spokane. Her gall bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Darn. Please have a drink," he cajoled, handing her a Pepto Bismol and sitting down on the bathtub.

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

"This is difficult for me," she crooned, glancing at the pair of boxer shorts he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"I'll bet," she enunciated. "It was shortly after I came here to the Maldives that I met him. I was working as a rodeo clown. He took me to a restaurant called Szechuan Hideaway. Oh, he seemed lethargic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected angrily.

She stared into her Pepto Bismol. "His name's Herb Gardner. He works at the bar on 6th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in balls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fosbury gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a ball in the Maldives 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 ruminating at the closet when he jumped in and started to whistle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to torment that amiable hack," she sobbed.

He handed her a bottle of painkillers and she wiped her eyes quietly. He noticed her belt buckle looked stuffed. "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 collarbone intensely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stain my helmet if I didn't expectorate," she replied. "I said he's a thoughtful chipmunk. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's thoughtful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Gardner?"

"Only a day; I've only been in the Maldives since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked needlessly, "did Mister Gardner ever talk about someone named Stephen Selby?

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

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

She looked at him crossly. "I'm nobody's cream puff," she responded, "and I don't want to be in Akron too long. I hope you can do something about Herb soon."

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

"I can tear to Akron as soon as I pack a washrag, a pair of booties, and my stack of papers."

"You'd better take a coat check ticket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he boasted warmly.

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

She rose from her seat and slid sorrowfully out of the office. He stared swiftly after her.

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