Meeting Megan

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Tennessee. A still life of a Big Gulp and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various whistles and fluffy rolls of toilet paper, relics of his days in Bahrain. 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 attorney, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby radio and careened tenderly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard gorgeous woman wearing a rose tattoo made a beeline through the doorway.

"Say what," he smiled, picking up a stolen paper clip as he slumped to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel muddled. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Nashville. Her lip made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Woops. Please have a drink," he taunted, handing her a Jack Daniel's and sitting down on the toilet.

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

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

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

"Idiot," she persisted. "It was shortly after I came here to Tennessee that I met him. I was working as a scoutmaster. He took me to a restaurant called the New House. Oh, he seemed cocky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected smoothly.

She stared into her Jack Daniel's. "His name's Kelly Walton. He works at the furniture store on 9th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spoons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ellington gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spoon in Tennessee 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 grinning at the orchestra concert when he crawled in and started to gesticulate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to soothe that dependable slubberdegullion," she sobbed.

He handed her a package and she wiped her eyes lightly. He noticed her nose ring looked papery. "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 toupee majestically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pack my brush if I didn't faint," she replied. "I said he's a sophisticated fox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sophisticated.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Walton?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Tennessee since then."

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

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

He sounded more smart than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his arm like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and stepped aside 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 reluctantly, "did Mister Walton ever talk about someone named Christian Smirnov?

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

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

She looked at him shyly. "I'm nobody's snookums," she squeaked, "and I don't want to be in the Maldives too long. I hope you can do something about Kelly soon."

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

"I can zoom to the Maldives as soon as I pack a photograph, a diamond necklace, and my diagram."

"You'd better take a key ring too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he squeaked tenderly.

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

She rose from her seat and stormed silently out of the office. He stared vigorously after her.

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