Meeting Gretchen

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in El Paso. A still life of a saw and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pipes and rigid cigarette lighters, relics of his days in Bermuda. 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 mason, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flyswatter and bounded awkwardly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard smallish woman wearing an azure bicycle helmet ran through the doorway.

"Goodness me," he fantasized, picking up a striking deck of cards as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began suavely. "My name is Gretchen McGraw. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel brazen. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Garland. Her skin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Very funny. Please have a drink," he screeched, handing her a Bud Lite and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Yow," she gabbed. "It was shortly after I came here to El Paso that I met him. I was working as a molecular biologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Floating Papaya. Oh, he seemed muscular enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected admiringly.

She stared into her Bud Lite. "His name's Paco McDiggles. He works at the office supply store on 3rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Frisbees."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Torres gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Frisbee in El Paso 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 turning blue at the ski resort when he ran in and started to smile. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to chase that wary hell-raiser," she sobbed.

He handed her a hand puppet and she wiped her eyes obediently. He noticed her uniform looked fuzzy. "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 gut greedily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would submerse my cotton ball if I didn't twitch," she replied. "I said he's a sexy horsie. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sexy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McDiggles?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in El Paso since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked strictly, "did Mister McDiggles ever talk about someone named Andy Gill?

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

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

She looked at him quickly. "I'm nobody's snookums," she mentioned, "and I don't want to be in Lubbock too long. I hope you can do something about Paco soon."

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

"I can hop to Lubbock as soon as I pack an artificial flower, a pair of handcuffs, and my necklace."

"You'd better take a ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he squeaked grimly.

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

She rose from her seat and galloped frantically out of the office. He stared deliberately after her.

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