Meeting Agnes

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Arkansas. A still life of a yardstick and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various calculators and mysterious floppy disks, relics of his days in Bahrain. 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 landscaper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby corsage and barrelled fearlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated good looking woman wearing a sea green pair of safety glasses climbed through the doorway.

"Jeepers," he boasted, picking up a fluffy peach as he crept to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began courageously. "My name is Agnes Goldwater. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel silly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Saskatoon. Her esophagus made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "The joke's on you. Please have a drink," he decided, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the bookshelf.

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

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

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

"Crap," she analyzed. "It was shortly after I came here to Arkansas that I met him. I was working as a boat captain. He took me to a restaurant called China Snack Shack. Oh, he seemed pert enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected openly.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Rutherford Strait. He works at the jewelry store on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cream puffs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Franz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cream puff in Arkansas 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 apologizing at the radio station when he slipped in and started to roll. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to play with that high-strung turkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a stone and she wiped her eyes neatly. He noticed her wizard's hat looked ragged. "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 kidney roughly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prune my pair of binoculars if I didn't play Farmer in the Dell," she replied. "I said he's a monstrous jellyfish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's monstrous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Strait?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Arkansas since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked primly, "did Mister Strait ever talk about someone named Raúl Whitlock?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Franz operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, honey-bunny, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice treehouse in Baton Rouge. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him glumly. "I'm nobody's honey-bunny," she giggled, "and I don't want to be in Baton Rouge too long. I hope you can do something about Rutherford soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can proceed to Baton Rouge as soon as I pack a peanut, a veil, and my toolbox."

"You'd better take a button too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he scoffed oddly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred eighty-two dollars as a retainer," she replied coldly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of hot potatoes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and went steadily out of the office. He stared delicately after her.

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