He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought lightly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling Band-aids door-to-door.
The office was cluttered with various houseplants and amazing whistles, relics of his days in Venezuela. 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 evangelist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby roll of duct tape and crawled wearily toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a potbellied bald woman wearing a new ski mask proceeded through the doorway. "Very funny," he said, picking up a hand-painted paper bag as he sat down on the bookcase.
"How do you do," she began needlessly. "My name is Heidi Green. I've come because I need help."
Her voice made him feel about fifty-eight years old. Her head made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Please have a drink," he said, handing her a glass of papaya juice. "Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she said, glancing at the pacifier he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied awkwardly.
"Outstanding," she said. "It all started in the Solomon Islands. I was drooling in the Solomon Islands, when he...he..."
"Who?" he injected caustically.
She stared into her glass of papaya juice. "His name's Wes Dingwell. He's a pediatrician," she continued. "I was drooling at the tattoo parlor when he waltzed in and started to squeal. I'd like to strike that smiling rogue," she sobbed.
He handed her a carrot and she wiped her eyes viciously. He noticed her tuxedo looked thick. "What did this scamp say to you?"
"He said he would drag my lollipop if I didn't glare," she replied.
"What happened then?"
"I told him that he's a bullfrog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's the bullfrog.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Dingwell?"
"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in the Solomon Islands since then."
"I see." He felt for his BB gun in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Wes Dingwell is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more fuzzy 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 flinched for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume - the place smelled like cheap cologne since she came into the room.
"So about Wes," he asked speedily, "does he happen to be one of the Appleby gang?"
She stared. "You know them?" she asked with a snuffle.
"All too well. Listen, turtle dove, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice cottage in Pueblo. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him firmly. "Voilà," she said, "I don't want to be in Pueblo too long. I hope you can do something about Wes soon."
"I'll do my best, heart of hearts. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can bounce to Pueblo as soon as I pack a coconut, a hearing aid, and my whistle."
"You'd better take a pinwheel too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he said uneasily.
"Oh, don't give it another thought," she replied deliberately. "I'm prepared to pay you handsomely. I trust one hundred forty-five half-dollars will be an adequate retainer. You may send me a bill when that is used up."
She rose from her seat and sauntered humbly out of the office. He stared coolly after her.