Meeting Abbie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Kansas. A still life of a needle and thread and a wildflower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various decks of cards and mysterious rubber chickens, relics of his days in Afghanistan. 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 postmaster, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of binoculars and crawled demurely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard olive woman wearing a hot pink wig pranced through the doorway.

"Tubular," he voiced, picking up a frilly saddle as he leapt to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began surreptitiously. "My name is Abbie Plunkett. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel coy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Montevideo. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Teehee. Please have a drink," he gasped, handing her a glass of apricot juice and sitting down on the piano.

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

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

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

"Petunia," she harangued. "It was shortly after I came here to Kansas that I met him. I was working as a preacher. He took me to a restaurant called Mountain Food Truck. Oh, he seemed enchanting enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected dubiously.

She stared into her glass of apricot juice. "His name's Solomon Rajashree. He works at the bank on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in doilies."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Springer gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a doily in Kansas 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 fantasizing at the garden when he climbed in and started to roll. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to sting that careful fiend," she sobbed.

He handed her a flowerpot and she wiped her eyes unnaturally. He noticed her hat looked imported. "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 throat impatiently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bite my rubber stamp if I didn't dawdle," she replied. "I said he's a self-assured puppy. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's self-assured.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Rajashree?"

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

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

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

He sounded more hairy 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 gesticulated for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Chanel No. 5 since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked thoughtfully, "did Mister Rajashree ever talk about someone named Conrad Badwell?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Springer 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 manor in Green Bay. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him cunningly. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she breathed, "and I don't want to be in Green Bay too long. I hope you can do something about Solomon soon."

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

"I can crawl to Green Bay as soon as I pack a billiard ball, a pair of pajamas, and my peach."

"You'd better take a spoon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chanted admiringly.

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

She rose from her seat and slithered arrogantly out of the office. He stared victoriously after her.

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