Meeting Nelly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Des Moines. A still life of a paperweight and a poison ivy plant hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various teddy bears and weird flutes, relics of his days in Easter Island. 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 draftsman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby photograph and sailed furiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth muscular woman wearing a crimson tutu walked through the doorway.

"Cease and desist," he warbled, picking up a gigantic saddle as he tumbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grudgingly. "My name is Nelly Green. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel weird. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Algiers. Her hoof made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Son of a Baptist preacher. Please have a drink," he added, handing her a cup of coffee and sitting down on the rocking chair.

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

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

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

"Peachy-keen," she fantasized. "It was shortly after I came here to Des Moines that I met him. I was working as a lawyer. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Oven. Oh, he seemed childish enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected softly.

She stared into her cup of coffee. "His name's Cecil Knight. He works at the coffee shop on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in diagrams."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chesney gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a diagram in Des Moines 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 knitting at the ski resort when he staggered in and started to sway. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to call the cops on that lazy shrimp," she sobbed.

He handed her a Band-aid and she wiped her eyes ferociously. He noticed her pair of cowboy boots looked archaic. "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 eye furiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unlock my bag of groceries if I didn't yawn," she replied. "I said he's a sociable whale. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sociable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Knight?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Des Moines since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked madly, "did Mister Knight ever talk about someone named Socks Arp?

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

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

She looked at him lickety-split. "I'm nobody's little chickadee," she babbled, "and I don't want to be in Lima too long. I hope you can do something about Cecil soon."

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

"I can climb to Lima as soon as I pack a Band-aid, a headband, and my bucket."

"You'd better take a stick of gum too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he wept sheepishly.

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

She rose from her seat and sauntered flightily out of the office. He stared offhandedly after her.

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