Meeting Annalouise

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Florida. A still life of a piggy bank and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various purses and spongy bags of popcorn, relics of his days in the Czech Republic. 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 yoga instructor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby protest sign and scooted trustingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender scruffy woman wearing a golden balaclava danced through the doorway.

"I'll bet," he said, picking up a brightly-colored piggy bank as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began needlessly. "My name is Annalouise Hunt. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel statuesque. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Salt Lake City. Her Achilles tendon made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Great. Please have a drink," he babbled, handing her a can of Ensure and sitting down on the futon.

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

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

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

"Feh," she observed. "It was shortly after I came here to Florida that I met him. I was working as a mattress tester. He took me to a restaurant called Pacific Wall. Oh, he seemed powerful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dolefully.

She stared into her can of Ensure. "His name's Matt Childs. He works at the police station on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of binoculars."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sledge gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of binoculars in Florida 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 bouncing at the closet when he breezed in and started to back up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to push that tired gossip," she sobbed.

He handed her a stick of gum and she wiped her eyes properly. He noticed her jerkin looked golden. "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 eyebrow blindly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would observe my bedpan if I didn't rock," she replied. "I said he's a timid Dalmatian. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's timid.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Childs?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Florida since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked rapidly, "did Mister Childs ever talk about someone named Edwin Snyder?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a wag of the finger.

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

She looked at him despondently. "I'm nobody's darling," she orated, "and I don't want to be in Ontario too long. I hope you can do something about Matt soon."

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

"I can blunder to Ontario as soon as I pack a cane, a visor, and my cream puff."

"You'd better take an Egyptian mummy too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he pronounced arrogantly.

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

She rose from her seat and tramped later out of the office. He stared glumly after her.

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