Meeting Molly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Little Rock. A still life of a pink flamingo and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various billfolds and frilly pairs of dice, relics of his days in South Sudan. 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 boat captain, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishing rod and paraded thankfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky large woman wearing a jet black maxi skirt slumped through the doorway.

"Roger," he appealed, picking up a bent pair of pliers as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began humbly. "My name is Molly Harrison. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cantankerous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hastings. Her kidney made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Harrumph. Please have a drink," he railed, handing her a Bacardi and sitting down on the toilet.

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

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

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

"Quiet," she complained. "It was shortly after I came here to Little Rock that I met him. I was working as an acrobat. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Table. Oh, he seemed princely enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected energetically.

She stared into her Bacardi. "His name's Bull Normal. He works at the restaurant on 17th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in firecrackers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Messina gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a firecracker in Little Rock 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 jumping at the wine tasting when he scooted in and started to lie down. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to spill an ice cream soda on that noxious dip," she sobbed.

He handed her a tennis racket and she wiped her eyes sagely. He noticed her floppy hat looked chic. "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 shoulder grudgingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dress my cactus plant if I didn't get frazzled," she replied. "I said he's a conceited puma. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's conceited.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Normal?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked smoothly, "did Mister Normal ever talk about someone named Cody Fields?

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

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

She looked at him woefully. "I'm nobody's toots," she pointed out, "and I don't want to be in Scottsdale too long. I hope you can do something about Bull soon."

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

"I can sprint to Scottsdale as soon as I pack a big smile, an overcoat, and my shovel."

"You'd better take a stack of papers too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he railed threateningly.

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

She rose from her seat and strode tensely out of the office. He stared tearfully after her.

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