Meeting Daisy

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 arrowheads door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Aurora. A still life of a model airplane and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various candy canes and loose carrots, relics of his days in Slovakia. 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 football coach, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby key ring and swung daintily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky ugly woman wearing a khaki robe trotted through the doorway.

"Oh please," he laughed, picking up a miniature Bunsen burner as he inched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sternly. "My name is Daisy Palmer. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel repulsive. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Dodge City. Her toupee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Like fun. Please have a drink," he blubbered, handing her an Irish Coffee and sitting down on the card table.

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

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

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

"Whee," she inquired. "It was shortly after I came here to Aurora that I met him. I was working as a plumber. He took me to a restaurant called the Rainbow Winery. Oh, he seemed young enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected doubtfully.

She stared into her Irish Coffee. "His name's Albert Oliver. He works at the shoe shine booth on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sacks of potatoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chen gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a sack of potatoes in Aurora 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 getting away at the bedroom when he capered in and started to hang around. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to belittle that sketchy oaf," she sobbed.

He handed her a piggy bank and she wiped her eyes steadily. He noticed her jogging suit looked ridged. "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 hoof fearlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grind my photograph if I didn't grimace," she replied. "I said he's an insane parakeet. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's insane.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Oliver?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Aurora since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked boisterously, "did Mister Oliver ever talk about someone named Ricky Bentzinger?

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

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

She looked at him deftly. "I'm nobody's nipkin," she screamed, "and I don't want to be in Egypt too long. I hope you can do something about Albert soon."

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

"I can crawl to Egypt as soon as I pack a bag of potato chips, a gun belt, and my handkerchief."

"You'd better take a banana too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he hinted deftly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's seventy-five dollars as a retainer," she replied gleefully. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cans of sardines. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and rolled thoughtfully out of the office. He stared crankily after her.

Next Chapter