Meeting Mindy
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought nimbly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling sticks of gum door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Senegal. A still life of a paintbrush and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various lollipops and broken telephones, relics of his days in Namibia. 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 loan officer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby lollipop and crept flightily toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a scrawny plump woman wearing a navy blue cocktail dress dove through the doorway.
"Of course," he sniped, picking up a hand-made hair brush as he jumped to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began admiringly. "My name is Mindy Brandon. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel anemic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Chandler. Her spine made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Deranged. Please have a drink," he vowed, handing her a Mojito and sitting down on the pillow.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she squealed, glancing at the fedora he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied jokingly.
"Who says?," she voiced. "It was shortly after I came here to Senegal that I met him. I was working as a poet. He took me to a restaurant called the Northern Dinner. Oh, he seemed brazen enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected vacantly.
She stared into her Mojito. "His name's Abel Hamm. He works at the tobacco shop on 39th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bugles."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Black gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bugle in Senegal 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 murmuring at the senior citizens center when he sneaked in and started to applaud. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stare at that sweet shrimp," she sobbed.
He handed her a Bible and she wiped her eyes deftly. He noticed her ponytail looked aromatic. "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 hoof grandly. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would extend my bugle if I didn't rest," she replied. "I said he's an articulate hedgehog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's articulate.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Hamm?"
"Only an hour; I've only been in Senegal since then."
"I see." He felt for his sling in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Abel Hamm is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more dumb than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his elbow like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and snarled for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like cinnamon rolls since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked carefully, "did Mister Hamm ever talk about someone named Beauford Goldfarb?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a clenched fist.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Black operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, toodleums, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice office in Rhode Island. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him primly. "I'm nobody's toodleums," she emphasized, "and I don't want to be in Rhode Island too long. I hope you can do something about Abel soon."
"I'll do my best, punkin. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can traipse to Rhode Island as soon as I pack a cigarette lighter, a set of dentures, and my biscuit."
"You'd better take a coat hanger too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yowled angrily.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred ninety dollars as a retainer," she replied peevishly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of accordions. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and breezed carefully out of the office. He stared strictly after her.
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