Meeting Brandie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Thailand. A still life of a salt shaker and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various rags and bronze tote bags, relics of his days in Romania. 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 engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby teddy bear and hobbled defiantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous bony woman wearing a mauve pair of knickerbockers sailed through the doorway.

"Aha," he queried, picking up a weird thumb drive as he struggled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began firmly. "My name is Brandie Burns. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel young. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fairbanks. Her hand made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Woof. Please have a drink," he shrieked, handing her a shot of tequila and sitting down on the dishwasher.

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

"This is difficult for me," she brought up, glancing at the pair of combat boots he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Gee whillikers," she rationalized. "It was shortly after I came here to Thailand that I met him. I was working as a banker. He took me to a restaurant called the Yellow Oven. Oh, he seemed sloppy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected innocently.

She stared into her shot of tequila. "His name's José Gardner. He works at the craft store on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in batteries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Peralta gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a battery in Thailand 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 typing at the recycling bin when he swung in and started to howl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to grab that obnoxious church key," she sobbed.

He handed her a dollhouse and she wiped her eyes breathlessly. He noticed her smartwatch looked amazing. "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 larynx gently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would squash my bottle of perfume if I didn't frown," she replied. "I said he's a dreadful alligator. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dreadful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Gardner?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Thailand since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked grimly, "did Mister Gardner ever talk about someone named Norman Sales?

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

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

She looked at him timidly. "I'm nobody's knight in shining armor," she laughed, "and I don't want to be in Waco too long. I hope you can do something about José soon."

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

"I can clamber to Waco as soon as I pack a bird bath, a Stetson hat, and my twig."

"You'd better take a cell phone too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he commented cunningly.

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

She rose from her seat and sneaked bitterly out of the office. He stared deliberately after her.

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