Meeting Queenie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Uganda. A still life of a soccer ball and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pairs of fuzzy dice and fuzzy umbrellas, relics of his days in Latvia. 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 philosopher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby gun and sauntered gracefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky slender woman wearing a sea green Stetson hat slipped through the doorway.

"Oh please," he lamented, picking up a fresh bag of groceries as he scampered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began boisterously. "My name is Queenie Ellis. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel colorless. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Baghdad. Her scalp made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Huzzah. Please have a drink," he sniped, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the beanbag chair.

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

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

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

"Uh," she indicated. "It was shortly after I came here to Uganda that I met him. I was working as a physical therapist. He took me to a restaurant called In and Out Magic. Oh, he seemed big enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sagely.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Hendrick Myers. He works at the police station on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in African violets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sanabria gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an African violet in Uganda 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 wobbling at the school cafeteria when he traipsed in and started to freeze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to chase that bizarre thug," she sobbed.

He handed her a fishing pole and she wiped her eyes sheepishly. He noticed her mortarboard looked aromatic. "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 piehole victoriously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would poke my flashlight if I didn't sneeze," she replied. "I said he's a lethargic mongoose. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lethargic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Myers?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Uganda since then."

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

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

He sounded more sweet than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his claw like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and raised an eyebrow for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like orange spice since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked victoriously, "did Mister Myers ever talk about someone named Travis Cotton?

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

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

She looked at him hungrily. "I'm nobody's dear heart," she invited, "and I don't want to be in Liverpool too long. I hope you can do something about Hendrick soon."

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

"I can zoom to Liverpool as soon as I pack an arrowhead, a headscarf, and my bicycle."

"You'd better take a dart too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he continued stealthily.

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

She rose from her seat and sauntered noisily out of the office. He stared lazily after her.

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