Meeting Tammy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Egypt. A still life of a clam and a bit of moss hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various chess sets and wet bagpipes, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 gemcutter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coat hanger and tiptoed properly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt scraggly woman wearing a turquoise bowler hat tiptoed through the doorway.

"I doubt it," he breathed, picking up a thick can of soup as he waltzed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began viciously. "My name is Tammy Anderson. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel intense. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Manchester. Her brain made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ho hum. Please have a drink," he noted, handing her a bottle of rum and sitting down on the bench.

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

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

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

"If only," she simpered. "It was shortly after I came here to Egypt that I met him. I was working as a waiter. He took me to a restaurant called Chicago Plateau. Oh, he seemed passionate enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected temperamentally.

She stared into her bottle of rum. "His name's Will Kling. He works at the dry cleaner on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bottle of Tabasco Sauces."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sitzman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bottle of Tabasco Sauce in Egypt 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 jumping at the poetry reading when he marched in and started to turn blue. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to peek at that agile weasel," she sobbed.

He handed her a pepper grinder and she wiped her eyes miserably. He noticed her bib looked decrepit. "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 thumb boldly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would scrape my amulet if I didn't wait," she replied. "I said he's a stinky anaconda. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's stinky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kling?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked immediately, "did Mister Kling ever talk about someone named Stan Van Veen?

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

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

She looked at him fondly. "I'm nobody's twinkie," she squealed, "and I don't want to be in Buffalo too long. I hope you can do something about Will soon."

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

"I can dart to Buffalo as soon as I pack a floppy disk, a corset, and my photograph."

"You'd better take a diagram too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he belched carelessly.

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

She rose from her seat and skipped frantically out of the office. He stared haughtily after her.

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