Meeting Ida

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Lincoln. A still life of a cream puff and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various flowers and brittle bouquets, relics of his days in New Guinea. 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 fruit picker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hammer and strolled uselessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby feeble woman wearing a turquoise set of football pads loped through the doorway.

"Yummy," he urged, picking up a fancy football as he proceeded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began excitedly. "My name is Ida Mallory. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel irate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Salinas. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Huh. Please have a drink," he crooned, handing her a cup of cocoa and sitting down on the counter.

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

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

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

"Meow," she reasoned. "It was shortly after I came here to Lincoln that I met him. I was working as a postmaster. He took me to a restaurant called Madrid Dynasty. Oh, he seemed bouncy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected quickly.

She stared into her cup of cocoa. "His name's Thad Mackintosh. He works at the supermarket on 41st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in remote controls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the King gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a remote control in Lincoln 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 swooning at the rock concert when he walked in and started to grow up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to stare at that calm wraith," she sobbed.

He handed her a sponge and she wiped her eyes later. He noticed her pair of pantaloons looked luxurious. "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 face courteously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grease my hockey puck if I didn't wince," she replied. "I said he's a powerful buzzard. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's powerful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Mackintosh?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Lincoln since then."

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

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

He sounded more spunky than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his Adam's apple like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and doodled for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like rotten fish since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked openly, "did Mister Mackintosh ever talk about someone named Luke Johnston?

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

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

She looked at him lamely. "I'm nobody's sparky," she mentioned, "and I don't want to be in Ohio too long. I hope you can do something about Thad soon."

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

"I can tramp to Ohio as soon as I pack a rubber stamp, a cheerleader's uniform, and my baton."

"You'd better take a stick of gum too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he suggested despondently.

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

She rose from her seat and crept kindly out of the office. He stared unexpectedly after her.

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