Meeting Joyce

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Kansas. A still life of a pacifier and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various toilet seats and disgusting firecrackers, relics of his days in Uganda. 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 pawnbroker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby contract and hopped deftly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a scrawny ruddy woman wearing a lavender pith helmet breezed through the doorway.

"Be still, my beating heart," he piped up, picking up a thick pipe as he whirled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sweetly. "My name is Joyce Springer. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bellicose. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Athens. Her heel made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Omigosh. Please have a drink," he queried, handing her a soda and sitting down on the computer.

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

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

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

"Petunia," she breathed. "It was shortly after I came here to Kansas that I met him. I was working as a fashion designer. He took me to a restaurant called Moroccan Inn. Oh, he seemed affable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unabashedly.

She stared into her soda. "His name's Hamlet Kollmorgen. He works at the McDonalds on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hammers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Willis gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hammer in Kansas 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 swaying at the radio station when he stalked in and started to dawdle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to lose that haughty hoodlum," she sobbed.

He handed her a firecracker and she wiped her eyes wryly. He noticed her pair of shorts 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 bicep fearlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would overlook my rope if I didn't cry," she replied. "I said he's a vivacious fox. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's vivacious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kollmorgen?"

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

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

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

He sounded more portly 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 moaned for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like elderberries since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked lightly, "did Mister Kollmorgen ever talk about someone named Timothy Small?

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

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

She looked at him trustingly. "I'm nobody's love," she yelled, "and I don't want to be in Mexico too long. I hope you can do something about Hamlet soon."

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

"I can zip to Mexico as soon as I pack a baseball, a cummerbund, and my corncob."

"You'd better take a chain too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he imitated primly.

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

She rose from her seat and sidled crazily out of the office. He stared gently after her.

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