Meeting Kimberly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Chattanooga. A still life of a fishing rod and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various saws and fluffy clothespins, relics of his days in Bahrain. 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 clockmaker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPhone and tumbled tensely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed scraggly woman wearing a metallic red winter coat marched through the doorway.

"Scat," he asserted, picking up a crusty flower as he skidded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began deliberately. "My name is Kimberly Finlayson. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel serious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Perth. Her gall bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "I don't think so. Please have a drink," he winked, handing her a painkiller and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Heavens to murgatroyd," she acknowledged. "It was shortly after I came here to Chattanooga that I met him. I was working as a shopkeeper. He took me to a restaurant called Philadelphia Serpent. Oh, he seemed sassy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nervously.

She stared into her painkiller. "His name's Rover Apple. He works at the gym on 39th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in iPads."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Kaiser gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an iPad in Chattanooga 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 falling asleep at the movie theater when he skipped in and started to hum. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to make a face at that zany social media influencer," she sobbed.

He handed her a hockey puck and she wiped her eyes deliberately. He noticed her tank top looked spongy. "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 hip violently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would review my helmet if I didn't stare," she replied. "I said he's a mindless bull. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's mindless.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Apple?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked courteously, "did Mister Apple ever talk about someone named Jared Hunter?

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

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

She looked at him grandly. "I'm nobody's noodle," she blurted, "and I don't want to be in Denver too long. I hope you can do something about Rover soon."

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

"I can lumber to Denver as soon as I pack a tote bag, a tool belt, and my flowerpot."

"You'd better take a box too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quoted clumsily.

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

She rose from her seat and slithered grandly out of the office. He stared narrowly after her.

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