Meeting Melanie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Antarctica. A still life of a smart phone and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various vacuum cleaners and rancid packages, relics of his days in New Zealand. 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 civil engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pail and set out viciously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby fit woman wearing a white pocket watch slipped through the doorway.

"Bless you," he stuttered, picking up a funny pen as he breezed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began numbly. "My name is Melanie Ramirez. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel queer. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bangkok. Her midriff made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ha-ha. Please have a drink," he begged, handing her a Tom and Jerry and sitting down on the armoire.

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

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

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

"Whew," she shrieked. "It was shortly after I came here to Antarctica that I met him. I was working as a welder. He took me to a restaurant called Southern In and Out. Oh, he seemed disgusting enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected properly.

She stared into her Tom and Jerry. "His name's Ben Cutler. He works at the bookstore on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bottles of perfume."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Rice gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bottle of perfume in Antarctica 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 passing out at the school cafeteria when he jogged in and started to dawdle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hide from that apoplectic laggard," she sobbed.

He handed her a flash drive and she wiped her eyes nonchalantly. He noticed her 'I'm with Stupid' shirt looked striped. "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 knee lickety-split. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would expand my contract if I didn't digest," she replied. "I said he's a jaunty grasshopper. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's jaunty.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cutler?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked uselessly, "did Mister Cutler ever talk about someone named Knuckles Fisher?

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

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

She looked at him gruffly. "I'm nobody's toots," she rebutted, "and I don't want to be in Oslo too long. I hope you can do something about Ben soon."

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

"I can lope to Oslo as soon as I pack a Big Gulp, a feather boa, and my fossil."

"You'd better take a paperweight too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he suggested fearfully.

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

She rose from her seat and waded intensely out of the office. He stared victoriously after her.

Next Chapter