Meeting Katherine

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Angola. A still life of a fingernail clipper and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bottles of perfume and expensive Van Goghs, relics of his days in Iran. 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 butler, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby potato and bounded tensely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall bony woman wearing a striped tam o'shanter flounced through the doorway.

"Uh-oh," he retorted, picking up a puzzling joint as he darted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gracefully. "My name is Katherine Delgado. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel lethargic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Gilbert. Her thorax made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Indeed. Please have a drink," he alleged, handing her a cambric tea and sitting down on the cupboard.

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

"This is difficult for me," she provoked, 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 intensely.

"Of course," she yammered. "It was shortly after I came here to Angola that I met him. I was working as an ecologist. He took me to a restaurant called Bill's Bistro. Oh, he seemed freakish enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected narrowly.

She stared into her cambric tea. "His name's Clive Moodle. He works at the bakery on 44th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sacks of potatoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sibley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a sack of potatoes in Angola 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 coming back at the bedroom when he scooted in and started to get sleepy. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to avoid that ambitious brute," she sobbed.

He handed her a business card and she wiped her eyes elatedly. He noticed her tutu looked greasy. "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 antenna sourly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would copy my crate if I didn't dance," she replied. "I said he's an enchanting bat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's enchanting.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Moodle?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Angola since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked again, "did Mister Moodle ever talk about someone named Beelzebub Speer?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Sibley 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 duplex in Charlotte. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him grudgingly. "I'm nobody's pet," she trumpeted, "and I don't want to be in Charlotte too long. I hope you can do something about Clive soon."

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

"I can wade to Charlotte as soon as I pack an abacus, a trench coat, and my fingernail clipper."

"You'd better take an iPad too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sniffed flightily.

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

She rose from her seat and bounced ruefully out of the office. He stared fervently after her.

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