Meeting Merna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Orlando. A still life of an egg shell and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various snails and ridiculous paper bags, relics of his days in Canada. 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 costume designer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishhook and went haughtily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall youthful woman wearing a maroon loincloth stormed through the doorway.

"Cheers," he barked, picking up a queer iPod as he trotted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hopelessly. "My name is Merna Lucas. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel wizened. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Laramie. Her kneecap made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Tarnation. Please have a drink," he chimed, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the TV.

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

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

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

"For cryin' out loud," she thought. "It was shortly after I came here to Orlando that I met him. I was working as an Internet celebrity. He took me to a restaurant called the Blue Pie Kitchen. Oh, he seemed brave enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected roughly.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Will Truman. He works at the pharmacy on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in crystal balls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Greco gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a crystal ball in Orlando 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 sniffing at the bookstore when he careened in and started to dream. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to call the cops on that serious rapscallion," she sobbed.

He handed her a doily and she wiped her eyes cleverly. He noticed her armband looked crude. "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 shoulder breathlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would refurbish my saw if I didn't grimace," she replied. "I said he's a jolly rat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's jolly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Truman?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Orlando since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked nonchalantly, "did Mister Truman ever talk about someone named Tex Zedong?

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

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

She looked at him arrogantly. "I'm nobody's dovey-poo," she shuddered, "and I don't want to be in Ann Arbor too long. I hope you can do something about Will soon."

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

"I can gallop to Ann Arbor as soon as I pack a handkerchief, a corset, and my paper clip."

"You'd better take a campaign sign too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he stated proudly.

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

She rose from her seat and walked grandly out of the office. He stared strictly after her.

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