Meeting Riley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Birmingham. A still life of a painting and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pizzas and funny tickets, relics of his days in Slovenia. 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 burglar, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flag and dove shakily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth tiny woman wearing a jade bustier sped through the doorway.

"Oh please," he persisted, picking up a gooey ball as he skipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began crossly. "My name is Riley Andrews. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel serious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Sunnyvale. Her tail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nice. Please have a drink," he gasped, handing her a bottle of Gatorade and sitting down on the cash register.

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

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

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

"Granular," she reasoned. "It was shortly after I came here to Birmingham that I met him. I was working as a stockbroker. He took me to a restaurant called Fabulous Soup Kitchen. Oh, he seemed heavyset enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ferociously.

She stared into her bottle of Gatorade. "His name's Nestor Duke. He works at the nail salon on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boxes of candy."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Green gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a box of candy in Birmingham 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 treading water at the school cafeteria when he cantered in and started to look puzzled. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to caress that menacing cur," she sobbed.

He handed her a magnet and she wiped her eyes awkwardly. He noticed her dog collar 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 beard vigorously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would disguise my bottle if I didn't blank out," she replied. "I said he's a paranoid chameleon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's paranoid.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Duke?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Birmingham since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked cleverly, "did Mister Duke ever talk about someone named Shane Clapper?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a pound of the chest.

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

She looked at him intensely. "I'm nobody's hon," she pleaded, "and I don't want to be in England too long. I hope you can do something about Nestor soon."

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

"I can prance to England as soon as I pack a duffel bag, an earring, and my pencil."

"You'd better take a coin too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he lamented timidly.

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

She rose from her seat and pranced zestily out of the office. He stared automatically after her.

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