Meeting Edna

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

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

The office was adorned with various ropes and shiny billfolds, relics of his days in Azerbaijan. 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 percussionist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby gun and reeled warmly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short gangling woman wearing a jet black wig made a beeline through the doorway.

"You bet," he gabbed, picking up a rare stuffed owl as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sarcastically. "My name is Edna Bear. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel intelligent. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Abilene. Her heel made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Holy minerva. Please have a drink," he squawked, handing her a Seven and Seven and sitting down on the settee.

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

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

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

"There-there," she joked. "It was shortly after I came here to Nauru that I met him. I was working as a taxi driver. He took me to a restaurant called Lakeshore Pastry Shop. Oh, he seemed creepy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected strangely.

She stared into her Seven and Seven. "His name's Cat Binkley. He works at the candy store on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in baseballs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Madison gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a baseball in Nauru 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 whirling at the senior citizens center when he swung in and started to seethe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to watch that frantic eager beaver," she sobbed.

He handed her a brochure and she wiped her eyes nicely. He noticed her coat of mail looked gruesome. "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 gall bladder shyly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would submerse my skull if I didn't shiver," she replied. "I said he's a bilious tapeworm. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bilious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Binkley?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Nauru since then."

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

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

He sounded more powerful 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 partied for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like baked beans since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked stealthily, "did Mister Binkley ever talk about someone named Nicholas Vernon?

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

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

She looked at him speedily. "I'm nobody's pookie," she vouched, "and I don't want to be in Chicago too long. I hope you can do something about Cat soon."

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

"I can skip to Chicago as soon as I pack a pencil sharpener, a pair of Reeboks, and my tablet computer."

"You'd better take a magnet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fumed dolorously.

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

She rose from her seat and cantered ingeniously out of the office. He stared crankily after her.

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