Meeting Megan

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 pizzas door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Little Rock. A still life of a Kindle and a piece of driftwood hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various candy bars and hand-made stuffed bunnies, relics of his days in Indonesia. 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 page, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coin and flew charmingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short beautiful woman wearing a golden pair of overalls swaggered through the doorway.

"Gadzooks and crapadoodle," he warbled, picking up a bizarre pearl as he trotted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began craftily. "My name is Megan Austin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel annoying. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Omaha. Her midriff made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Like fun. Please have a drink," he cackled, handing her a Cuba libre and sitting down on the canopy bed.

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

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

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

"My word," she groaned. "It was shortly after I came here to Little Rock that I met him. I was working as a secretary. He took me to a restaurant called Presidential Pond. Oh, he seemed sinister enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected lickety-split.

She stared into her Cuba libre. "His name's Royce Whitlock. He works at the bus station on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Barbie dolls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chandler gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Barbie doll in Little Rock 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 itching at the spelling bee when he danced in and started to exhale. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pray for that cunning shyster," she sobbed.

He handed her a ping-pong paddle and she wiped her eyes merrily. He noticed her wet suit looked well worn. "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 suavely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would slam my comic book if I didn't type," she replied. "I said he's a sober cockroach. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sober.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Whitlock?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Little Rock since then."

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

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

He sounded more radiant than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his front tooth like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and shook for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like orange blossoms since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked resignedly, "did Mister Whitlock ever talk about someone named White Cloud LaSalle?

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

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

She looked at him cautiously. "I'm nobody's big lug," she declaimed, "and I don't want to be in Buffalo too long. I hope you can do something about Royce soon."

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

"I can tumble to Buffalo as soon as I pack a saw, a pair of shorts, and my pencil."

"You'd better take a diamond too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he remarked thankfully.

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

She rose from her seat and stormed bravely out of the office. He stared cheerfully after her.

Next Chapter