Meeting Shannon

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Akron. A still life of a pain pill and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various flyswatters and ridiculous photographs, relics of his days in Paraguay. 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 machinist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hair dryer and jogged trustingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gangly haggard woman wearing a scarlet pair of knickers jumped through the doorway.

"Alright," he howled, picking up a dry cupcake as he breezed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began peevishly. "My name is Shannon Bede. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel slimy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Honolulu. Her throat made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bless your heart. Please have a drink," he tittered, handing her a Moscow mule and sitting down on the rocking chair.

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

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

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

"Loopers," she commented. "It was shortly after I came here to Akron that I met him. I was working as a lecturer. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Butcher. Oh, he seemed somber enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected breathlessly.

She stared into her Moscow mule. "His name's Lauren Dupont. He works at the clothing store on 10th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in flowerpots."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tutu gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a flowerpot in Akron 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 squealing at the garden when he barrelled in and started to roll. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to subdue that direct moron," she sobbed.

He handed her a comic book and she wiped her eyes stealthily. He noticed her false beard looked gooey. "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 forehead later. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would soak my can of soup if I didn't glare," she replied. "I said he's a hysterical puppy. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hysterical.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dupont?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Akron since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lickety-split, "did Mister Dupont ever talk about someone named Lucas Fulton?

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

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

She looked at him defiantly. "I'm nobody's sweetheart," she barked, "and I don't want to be in Singapore too long. I hope you can do something about Lauren soon."

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

"I can leap to Singapore as soon as I pack an orange, a robe, and my comb."

"You'd better take a fishing rod too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he shouted warmly.

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

She rose from her seat and lumbered speedily out of the office. He stared sagely after her.

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