Meeting Lorrie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Moldova. A still life of an ironing board and a bit of moss hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various fishhooks and unusual urns, 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 curmudgeon, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of potato chips and tramped pitifully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender hairy woman wearing a fuchsia pair of knickerbockers trekked through the doorway.

"Cripes," he admitted, picking up a sophisticated biscuit as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began miserably. "My name is Lorrie Small. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bold. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Pueblo. Her intestine made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Whoa. Please have a drink," he pointed out, handing her a glass of milk and sitting down on the china hutch.

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

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

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

"Fantastic," she stormed. "It was shortly after I came here to Moldova that I met him. I was working as a sports writer. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Steak & Suds. Oh, he seemed hairy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected positively.

She stared into her glass of milk. "His name's Vinny Flynn. He works at the novelty shop on 33rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in carrots."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sterling gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a carrot in Moldova 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 barking at the bowling alley when he dove in and started to moan. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to joke with that sinister noodlebrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a salt shaker and she wiped her eyes quickly. He noticed her Panama hat looked weird. "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 tongue neatly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would fortify my tube of toothpaste if I didn't fall asleep," she replied. "I said he's a cantankerous wombat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cantankerous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Flynn?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked daringly, "did Mister Flynn ever talk about someone named Dick West?

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

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

She looked at him dolorously. "I'm nobody's tinky-wink," she moaned, "and I don't want to be in Mumbai too long. I hope you can do something about Vinny soon."

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

"I can run to Mumbai as soon as I pack a chain, a pair of ear muffs, and my handkerchief."

"You'd better take a can of beer too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he questioned shakily.

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

She rose from her seat and waded gruffly out of the office. He stared gratefully after her.

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