Meeting Brooke

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Glendale. A still life of a carrot and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various baseball bats and excellent wastebaskets, relics of his days in Myanmar. 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 clarinetist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby yo-yo and rushed testily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated tattooed woman wearing an aqua pair of sweatpants darted through the doorway.

"The joke's on you," he moaned, picking up a rusty bullet as he waded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fervently. "My name is Brooke Salinger. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel awkward. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Los Angeles. Her eye made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sacre bleu. Please have a drink," he grunted, handing her a fruit smoothie and sitting down on the bunk bed.

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

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

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

"Holy cats," she joked. "It was shortly after I came here to Glendale that I met him. I was working as a miner. He took me to a restaurant called Fabulous Stone. Oh, he seemed dreadful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected shyly.

She stared into her fruit smoothie. "His name's Klaus Palmer. He works at the pastry shop on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hair brushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lindgren gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hair brush in Glendale 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 vegetating at the laundromat when he jumped in and started to pant. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to awe that self-assured slacker," she sobbed.

He handed her a Happy Meal and she wiped her eyes awkwardly. He noticed her coonskin hat looked weird. "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 finger greedily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would see my Egyptian mummy if I didn't throw up," she replied. "I said he's a young polar bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's young.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Palmer?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Glendale since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked awkwardly, "did Mister Palmer ever talk about someone named Antonio Zhao?

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

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

She looked at him wearily. "I'm nobody's patootie," she chuckled, "and I don't want to be in Tennessee too long. I hope you can do something about Klaus soon."

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

"I can tiptoe to Tennessee as soon as I pack a doll, a girdle, and my egg shell."

"You'd better take a knitting needle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he panted hastily.

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

She rose from her seat and crawled wildly out of the office. He stared wildly after her.

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