Meeting Bridget

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Gainesville. A still life of a hand puppet and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various screwdrivers and miniature bouquets, relics of his days in Pakistan. 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 coach, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby box of candy and leapt valiantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious wizened woman wearing a teal pair of moon boots sprinted through the doorway.

"Poof," he hissed, picking up a delicate cupcake as he leapt to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began humbly. "My name is Bridget Baca. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel arrogant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Rio de Janeiro. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Yipes. Please have a drink," he wailed, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the couch.

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

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

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

"The joke's on you," she giggled. "It was shortly after I came here to Gainesville that I met him. I was working as a makeup artist. He took me to a restaurant called Fireside Cornucopia. Oh, he seemed bold enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Woody Briggs. He works at the opera house on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crackers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Palin gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cracker in Gainesville 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 running away at the carnival when he blundered in and started to come back. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to shun that monstrous imposter," she sobbed.

He handed her a package and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her ring looked imitation. "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 tail ignobly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grip my cowbell if I didn't play Duck Duck Goose," she replied. "I said he's a furry polar bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's furry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Briggs?"

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

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

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

He sounded more princely than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his pinky like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and puckered for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Juicy Fruit gum since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked daintily, "did Mister Briggs ever talk about someone named Walter Van Heusen?

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

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

She looked at him briskly. "I'm nobody's friend," she wept, "and I don't want to be in Hong Kong too long. I hope you can do something about Woody soon."

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

"I can bound to Hong Kong as soon as I pack a pot, a pair of boxer shorts, and my carrot."

"You'd better take a clothespin too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he expressed daringly.

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

She rose from her seat and flew elatedly out of the office. He stared again after her.

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