Meeting Fanny

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Algiers. A still life of a candy cane and a badger hole hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various snails and hefty fishing rods, relics of his days in Cameroon. 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 shoe repairer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Bible and clambered demurely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small undersized woman wearing a grey pair of boxing gloves swung through the doorway.

"Caramba," he said, picking up a disgusting pillow as he slid to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grimly. "My name is Fanny Logan. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel ignoble. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Laredo. Her tongue made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Cheers. Please have a drink," he affirmed, handing her a Seven and Seven and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Who cares," she concluded. "It was shortly after I came here to Algiers that I met him. I was working as a horse trainer. He took me to a restaurant called Tokyo Bistro. Oh, he seemed dismal enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected speedily.

She stared into her Seven and Seven. "His name's Thad Law. He works at the laboratory on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in necklaces."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sanders gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a necklace in Algiers 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 peeping at the city park when he proceeded in and started to suffer. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to outrun that pensive snowflake," she sobbed.

He handed her a calling card and she wiped her eyes blindly. He noticed her pair of sweatpants looked hard. "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 vein blankly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dye my vacuum cleaner if I didn't breathe," she replied. "I said he's a bubbly mare. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's bubbly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Law?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Algiers since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sternly, "did Mister Law ever talk about someone named Alexei Ivanov?

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

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

She looked at him shakily. "I'm nobody's angel," she professed, "and I don't want to be in Jakarta too long. I hope you can do something about Thad soon."

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

"I can pad to Jakarta as soon as I pack a cigarette lighter, a helmet, and my egg shell."

"You'd better take a coat hanger too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fantasized sweetly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred seventy-six dollars as a retainer," she replied sleepily. I also have an extremely valuable collection of fire hoses. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and sashayed dreamily out of the office. He stared coolly after her.

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