Meeting Cindy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Chad. A still life of a pair of binoculars and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various peanuts and smelly pairs of knitting needles, relics of his days in Mongolia. 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 machinist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hockey puck and made a beeline needlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a short undersized woman wearing a black bodysuit clambered through the doorway.

"Aaah," he orated, picking up a weird rag as he bolted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gleefully. "My name is Cindy Corona. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel frightened. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Worcester. Her head made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Inconceivable. Please have a drink," he alleged, handing her a glass of wine and sitting down on the ping-pong table.

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

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

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

"Abracadabra," she phrased. "It was shortly after I came here to Chad that I met him. I was working as a choir director. He took me to a restaurant called Midtown Chicken. Oh, he seemed nervous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected peevishly.

She stared into her glass of wine. "His name's Darin Rosen. He works at the novelty shop on 33rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spinning wheels."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McGee gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spinning wheel in Chad 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 blowing up at the Seven-Eleven when he sprinted in and started to dilly-dally. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bump that sincere mush-for-brains," she sobbed.

He handed her a pigeon and she wiped her eyes dolefully. He noticed her fur coat looked brightly-colored. "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 eyelid angrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grasp my flower if I didn't cringe," she replied. "I said he's a sensible hedgehog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sensible.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Rosen?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Chad since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked crankily, "did Mister Rosen ever talk about someone named Dean Sewell?

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

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

She looked at him clumsily. "I'm nobody's knight in shining armor," she divulged, "and I don't want to be in Belarus too long. I hope you can do something about Darin soon."

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

"I can stagger to Belarus as soon as I pack a flower, a pair of toe shoes, and my toothbrush."

"You'd better take an apple too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he began perkily.

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

She rose from her seat and inched madly out of the office. He stared humbly after her.

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