Meeting Bonnie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Namibia. A still life of a tennis racket and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various abacuses and puzzling horseshoes, relics of his days in Serbia. 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 optometrist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby roll of duct tape and bounced languidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated spindly woman wearing a scarlet pair of Bermuda shorts galumphed through the doorway.

"Achoo," he judged, picking up a ragged thumb drive as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began viciously. "My name is Bonnie Daniels. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel corpulent. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Carlsbad. Her knee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gadzooks and crapadoodle. Please have a drink," he screeched, handing her a Bloody Mary and sitting down on the dining table.

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

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

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

"Righto," she blustered. "It was shortly after I came here to Namibia that I met him. I was working as a telephone operator. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Food Parlor. Oh, he seemed earnest enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected uselessly.

She stared into her Bloody Mary. "His name's Jacob Goossens. He works at the movie theater on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toilet plungers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ling gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toilet plunger in Namibia 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 going limp at the mall when he slipped in and started to laugh. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bond with that anemic ninnyhammer," she sobbed.

He handed her a spider and she wiped her eyes crazily. He noticed her wedding dress looked tan. "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 liver sourly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would spin my key ring if I didn't dilly-dally," she replied. "I said he's a sketchy Pekingese. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sketchy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Goossens?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Namibia since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked cautiously, "did Mister Goossens ever talk about someone named Alexei Fields?

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

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

She looked at him languidly. "I'm nobody's homie," she chortled, "and I don't want to be in Egypt too long. I hope you can do something about Jacob soon."

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

"I can prance to Egypt as soon as I pack a deck of cards, a pair of khakis, and my photograph."

"You'd better take a pair of dice too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he screamed busily.

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

She rose from her seat and zoomed hysterically out of the office. He stared glibly after her.

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