Meeting Brandie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Sudan. A still life of a coconut and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various mirrors and gleaming stuffed owls, relics of his days in Singapore. 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 beekeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby wrench and waded urgently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely feeble woman wearing a rose scarf slumped through the doorway.

"Like, totally," he intoned, picking up a small magazine as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began blissfully. "My name is Brandie Jankowski. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel energetic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Collins. Her liver made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Righto. Please have a drink," he wailed, handing her a glass of wine and sitting down on the hammock.

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

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

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

"Geez Louise," she stammered. "It was shortly after I came here to Sudan that I met him. I was working as an orchestra conductor. He took me to a restaurant called Hillside Food Blitz. Oh, he seemed unselfish enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected later.

She stared into her glass of wine. "His name's Jacques Dinklefloss. He works at the pizza joint on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in batteries."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hartley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a battery in Sudan 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 pausing at the swimming pool when he sashayed in and started to groan. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to remember that creepy drip," she sobbed.

He handed her a pink flamingo and she wiped her eyes deftly. He noticed her sport coat looked magnificent. "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 horn sarcastically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would burn my necklace if I didn't dream," she replied. "I said he's a decisive android. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's decisive.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dinklefloss?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Sudan since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked elatedly, "did Mister Dinklefloss ever talk about someone named Lawrence Scoville?

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

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

She looked at him obediently. "I'm nobody's honey-babe," she nattered, "and I don't want to be in Scottsdale too long. I hope you can do something about Jacques soon."

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

"I can saunter to Scottsdale as soon as I pack an air compressor, a tuxedo, and my candy cane."

"You'd better take a magnet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he laughed primly.

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

She rose from her seat and paraded steadily out of the office. He stared quickly after her.

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