Meeting Jenny

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Scottsdale. A still life of a church key and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various darts and thick cameras, relics of his days in Finland. 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 psychic, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bagpipe and sailed thoughtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight roly-poly woman wearing a brilliant orange necktie slithered through the doorway.

"Hurray," he guessed, picking up a hefty pair of knitting needles as he proceeded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began quickly. "My name is Jenny Cohen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel shiftless. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Greensboro. Her eyeball made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Pow. Please have a drink," he emphasized, handing her a Sangría and sitting down on the china cabinet.

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

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

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

"That's crazy talk," she laughed. "It was shortly after I came here to Scottsdale that I met him. I was working as a jellyfish rancher. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Bridge. Oh, he seemed ambitious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected repeatedly.

She stared into her Sangría. "His name's Mitch Plummer. He works at the burger joint on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in diaries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Manning gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a diary in Scottsdale 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 looking dumb at the gyro shop when he padded in and started to calculate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to argue with that dumb animal," she sobbed.

He handed her a necklace and she wiped her eyes sourly. He noticed her pair of pantaloons looked cardboard. "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 piehole defiantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would honor my baton if I didn't wiggle," she replied. "I said he's a sleek falcon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sleek.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Plummer?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Scottsdale 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 Mitch Plummer is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."

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

"Tell me," he asked miserably, "did Mister Plummer ever talk about someone named Devlin Ridley?

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

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

She looked at him dubiously. "I'm nobody's moonbeam," she protested, "and I don't want to be in Delaware too long. I hope you can do something about Mitch soon."

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

"I can inch to Delaware as soon as I pack a church key, a bow tie, and my soccer ball."

"You'd better take a ruler too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he offered frenetically.

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

She rose from her seat and tramped cleverly out of the office. He stared sorrowfully after her.

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