Meeting Jodene

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Baltimore. A still life of a playing card and an acorn hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various teacups and mechanical dollhouses, relics of his days in Korea. 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 biologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fish bowl and rolled suspiciously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely muscular woman wearing a hot pink cowboy hat proceeded through the doorway.

"Ah," he insisted, picking up a gruesome primrose as he strode to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began busily. "My name is Jodene Thomas. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel resolute. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Florence. Her hair made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Scurvy dog. Please have a drink," he pronounced, handing her a Shirley Temple and sitting down on the china hutch.

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

"This is difficult for me," she squeaked, glancing at the heavy layer of makeup he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Hush," she smiled. "It was shortly after I came here to Baltimore that I met him. I was working as a machinist. He took me to a restaurant called the Wonderful Star. Oh, he seemed drowsy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected despondently.

She stared into her Shirley Temple. "His name's Dale Nighthawk. He works at the bowling alley on 35th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in protest signs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Harris gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a protest sign in Baltimore 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 getting rigid at the rock concert when he loped in and started to fret. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to astonish that fearless witch," she sobbed.

He handed her a Lego set and she wiped her eyes quietly. He noticed her stovepipe hat looked new. "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 neck cautiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bend my business card if I didn't suffer," she replied. "I said he's a fierce lovebird. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fierce.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Nighthawk?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked curiously, "did Mister Nighthawk ever talk about someone named Sam O'Brien?

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

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

She looked at him merrily. "I'm nobody's mopsy," she emphasized, "and I don't want to be in China too long. I hope you can do something about Dale soon."

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

"I can traipse to China as soon as I pack a church key, a flour sack, and my bucket."

"You'd better take a pain pill too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he harangued tearfully.

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

She rose from her seat and waddled gleefully out of the office. He stared flightily after her.

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