Meeting Mandy

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Huntsville. A still life of a magazine and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various fishing poles and brittle buttons, relics of his days in Belize. 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 aeronautical engineer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby toy and ambled sagely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt muscular woman wearing a black corsage clambered through the doorway.

"Great Jehosaphat," he scoffed, picking up a torn shoe as he leapt to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began stupidly. "My name is Mandy Mohammadian. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sleepy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Providence. Her vein made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Jumpin’ Jehosaphat. Please have a drink," he howled, handing her an old fashioned and sitting down on the chest of drawers.

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

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

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

"Good golly," she smiled. "It was shortly after I came here to Huntsville that I met him. I was working as a rock musician. He took me to a restaurant called the Blazing Trading Post. Oh, he seemed gregarious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected timidly.

She stared into her old fashioned. "His name's Dustin German. He works at the art gallery on 23rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in diaries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ling gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a diary in Huntsville 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 weeping at the wine tasting when he danced in and started to flush. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to quiet that precocious fool," she sobbed.

He handed her a fishing pole and she wiped her eyes blissfully. He noticed her Stetson hat looked small. "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 pancreas lazily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would lynch my clam if I didn't do nothing," she replied. "I said he's a polite tarantula. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's polite.'"

"How long have you known Mr. German?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked irritably, "did Mister German ever talk about someone named Edward Provenzano?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a wag of the finger.

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

She looked at him swiftly. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she cried, "and I don't want to be in the Czech Republic too long. I hope you can do something about Dustin soon."

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

"I can leap to the Czech Republic as soon as I pack a dog collar, a garland, and my baby doll."

"You'd better take a compass too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he growled confidently.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred seventeen dollars as a retainer," she replied uneasily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of pink flamingoes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and hopped slyly out of the office. He stared sternly after her.

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