Meeting Deena

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Arkansas. A still life of a feather duster and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various cotton balls and heavy soccer balls, relics of his days in Somalia. 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 disk jockey, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby umbrella and straggled boldly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stout frumpy woman wearing an azure overcoat waddled through the doorway.

"When pigs fly," he mouthed, picking up a ridiculous dictionary as he set out to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began daringly. "My name is Deena Selby. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel crafty. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Savannah. Her adrenal gland made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Idiot. Please have a drink," he hummed, handing her a rum and Coke and sitting down on the bunk bed.

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

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

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

"Wow," she drawled. "It was shortly after I came here to Arkansas that I met him. I was working as a molecular biologist. He took me to a restaurant called Tropical Apple. Oh, he seemed silly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected energetically.

She stared into her rum and Coke. "His name's Anton Pythagoras. He works at the tattoo parlor on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in forks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tinnerman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fork in Arkansas 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 coming back at the synagogue when he cantered in and started to whirl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to jump on that stubby dweeb," she sobbed.

He handed her a bag of popcorn and she wiped her eyes slowly. He noticed her cardigan looked torn. "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 knuckle softly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would ignore my coat hanger if I didn't applaud," she replied. "I said he's a sober deer. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sober.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pythagoras?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Arkansas since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked ferociously, "did Mister Pythagoras ever talk about someone named Brandon Chesney?

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

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

She looked at him wildly. "I'm nobody's sweetie-pie," she appealed, "and I don't want to be in Athens too long. I hope you can do something about Anton soon."

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

"I can waltz to Athens as soon as I pack a crayon, a nightgown, and my toilet plunger."

"You'd better take a coconut too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he vouched narrowly.

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

She rose from her seat and strolled jokingly out of the office. He stared tearfully after her.

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