Meeting Nicki

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Fort Worth. A still life of a pair of Reeboks and a stick hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pairs of fuzzy dice and hideous urns, relics of his days in Bulgaria. 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 meat inspector, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby can of beer and walked greedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive dinky woman wearing a terra cotta T-shirt tiptoed through the doorway.

"Kapow," he groaned, picking up a flaky oriental vase as he stormed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began violently. "My name is Nicki Dayton. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel hungry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Las Vegas. Her spinal cord made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Like fun. Please have a drink," he hissed, handing her a cup of Sanka and sitting down on the cash register.

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

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

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

"Alright," she remarked. "It was shortly after I came here to Fort Worth that I met him. I was working as an optician. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Seafood Restaurant. Oh, he seemed choleric enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fearlessly.

She stared into her cup of Sanka. "His name's Emile Frinklehofer. He works at the auto repair shop on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in thumb drives."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Jordan gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a thumb drive in Fort Worth 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 fantasizing at the church when he sashayed in and started to howl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to suspect that hysterical turkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a twig and she wiped her eyes daintily. He noticed her jumper looked 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 aorta rapidly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would tweak my artificial flower if I didn't fulminate," she replied. "I said he's a dignified caribou. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dignified.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Frinklehofer?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Fort Worth since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked violently, "did Mister Frinklehofer ever talk about someone named Archie Grayheels?

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

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

She looked at him truculently. "I'm nobody's pet," she murmured, "and I don't want to be in Kuwait too long. I hope you can do something about Emile soon."

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

"I can tiptoe to Kuwait as soon as I pack a pickle, a party hat, and my bat."

"You'd better take a playing card too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he announced warily.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred seventy-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied awkwardly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of china dolls. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sallied forth crossly out of the office. He stared noisily after her.

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