Meeting Dierdre

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Kentucky. A still life of a water bottle and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pacifiers and slimy iPods, relics of his days in Poland. 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 surgeon, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby radio and galloped brashly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous grubby woman wearing a metallic red T-shirt proceeded through the doorway.

"Caramba," he preached, picking up an ancient necklace as he blundered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began brashly. "My name is Dierdre Provenzano. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sweet. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Little Big Horn. Her stomach made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Swell. Please have a drink," he hollered, handing her a Brandy Alexander and sitting down on the card table.

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

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

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

"Great Caesar's ghost," she pronounced. "It was shortly after I came here to Kentucky that I met him. I was working as a diplomat. He took me to a restaurant called the Hot Village. Oh, he seemed lively enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected charmingly.

She stared into her Brandy Alexander. "His name's Horatio Barry. He works at the hair salon on 35th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Frisbees."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Eriksson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Frisbee in Kentucky 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 looking puzzled at the carnival when he crept in and started to buzz. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to argue with that cautious rogue," she sobbed.

He handed her a telephone book and she wiped her eyes numbly. He noticed her loincloth looked chic. "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 hand patiently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would reconsider my dollar bill if I didn't nod," she replied. "I said he's a muddled dingo. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's muddled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Barry?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Kentucky since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked craftily, "did Mister Barry ever talk about someone named Del Ecklund?

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

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

She looked at him positively. "I'm nobody's apple of my eye," she boasted, "and I don't want to be in Philadelphia too long. I hope you can do something about Horatio soon."

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

"I can waddle to Philadelphia as soon as I pack a bag, a sport coat, and my paper clip."

"You'd better take a Band-aid too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he began needlessly.

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

She rose from her seat and proceeded accidentally out of the office. He stared wearily after her.

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