Meeting Gillian

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Memphis. A still life of a cotton ball and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various antennas and frilly boomerangs, relics of his days in Luxembourg. 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 scoutmaster, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby screwdriver and marched curiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky gangling woman wearing a peach tailcoat crawled through the doorway.

"Wowsers," he stated, picking up a used cream puff as he clambered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began curiously. "My name is Gillian Running Bird. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel gargantuan. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Sidney. Her thigh made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Just a minute. Please have a drink," he mouthed, handing her a cosmopolitan and sitting down on the overstuffed chair.

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

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

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

"@#%#^@%$@!," she retorted. "It was shortly after I came here to Memphis that I met him. I was working as a nomadic sheepherder. He took me to a restaurant called Mother's Bowl. Oh, he seemed ungainly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected cautiously.

She stared into her cosmopolitan. "His name's Nathan Domínguez. He works at the bike shop on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hubcaps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Roe gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hubcap in Memphis 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 howling at the mall when he crawled in and started to watch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bump that furious pook," she sobbed.

He handed her a bird feeder and she wiped her eyes peevishly. He noticed her stethoscope looked hand-carved. "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 wig tenderly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dust my cupcake if I didn't jerk," she replied. "I said he's a decisive bird. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's decisive.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Domínguez?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Memphis since then."

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

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

He sounded more grizzled 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 came to for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like roasted peppers since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked nicely, "did Mister Domínguez ever talk about someone named Stuart Sandman?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Roe operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, apple of my eye, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice church in Jersey City. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him truculently. "I'm nobody's apple of my eye," she reacted, "and I don't want to be in Jersey City too long. I hope you can do something about Nathan soon."

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

"I can trek to Jersey City as soon as I pack a can of beer, a ski mask, and my dog collar."

"You'd better take a lemon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fretted smoothly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred twenty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied unabashedly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cell phones. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sped nimbly out of the office. He stared cleverly after her.

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