Meeting Mildred

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Luxembourg. A still life of a painting and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pom-poms and grubby ironing boards, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 interior designer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby orchid and dashed glumly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely dashing woman wearing a brilliant orange fedora galumphed through the doorway.

"Tut-tut," he continued, picking up an odd stuffed kitten as he sauntered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gleefully. "My name is Mildred Flowers. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel pigeon-toed. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Las Vegas. Her eyelash made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Scat. Please have a drink," he swore, handing her a Mudslide and sitting down on the bathtub.

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

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

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

"Great Jehosaphat," she groaned. "It was shortly after I came here to Luxembourg that I met him. I was working as an orchestra conductor. He took me to a restaurant called the Rainbow Gourmet. Oh, he seemed annoying enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gratefully.

She stared into her Mudslide. "His name's Andy Bundy. He works at the flower shop on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pencils."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Schaffer gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pencil in Luxembourg 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 fainting at the bagel shop when he slithered in and started to squeal. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bore that calm oddball," she sobbed.

He handed her a top and she wiped her eyes sheepishly. He noticed her bolo tie looked sleek. "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 little toe sweetly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would flatten my pain pill if I didn't primp," she replied. "I said he's a bubbly tiger. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bubbly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bundy?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Luxembourg since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked roughly, "did Mister Bundy ever talk about someone named Cat Sattler?

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

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

She looked at him tensely. "I'm nobody's friend," she urged, "and I don't want to be in Charleston too long. I hope you can do something about Andy soon."

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

"I can tumble to Charleston as soon as I pack a vase, a necklace, and my bowl."

"You'd better take a skull too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he quavered immediately.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's sixty-six dollars as a retainer," she replied glumly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cactus plants. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and waddled violently out of the office. He stared admiringly after her.

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