Meeting Anne

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Denver. A still life of a bugle and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various towels and wooden billiard balls, relics of his days in Slovakia. 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 Uber driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bird feeder and capered resignedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe roly-poly woman wearing a navy blue helmet tiptoed through the doorway.

"Roger," he agreed, picking up an archaic teacup as he slunk to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began solemnly. "My name is Anne Giordano. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel desperate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Wayne. Her tooth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gads. Please have a drink," he remarked, handing her a Tom Collins and sitting down on the card table.

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

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

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

"Incredible," she phrased. "It was shortly after I came here to Denver that I met him. I was working as a doctor. He took me to a restaurant called Western Platter. Oh, he seemed stubby enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected grimly.

She stared into her Tom Collins. "His name's Alton Van Bloom. He works at the boutique on 47th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bags of potato chips."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Minturn gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bag of potato chips in Denver 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 smiling at the movie theater when he padded in and started to come to. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to embarrass that high-strung troublemaker," she sobbed.

He handed her a ping-pong paddle and she wiped her eyes briskly. He noticed her pair of shoes looked primitive. "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 belly button coolly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bite my spoon if I didn't wink," she replied. "I said he's a dowdy burro. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dowdy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Van Bloom?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Denver since then."

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

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

He sounded more athletic than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his piehole like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and primped for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a baby's diaper since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked kindly, "did Mister Van Bloom ever talk about someone named Dennis Romano?

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

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

She looked at him rapidly. "I'm nobody's bumbles," she protested, "and I don't want to be in Sudan too long. I hope you can do something about Alton soon."

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

"I can make a beeline to Sudan as soon as I pack a hubcap, a pair of flip-flops, and my boomerang."

"You'd better take a Bible too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he rumored unnaturally.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred ninety-four dollars as a retainer," she replied awkwardly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of flash drives. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and staggered swiftly out of the office. He stared energetically after her.

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