Meeting Rosie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Alaska. A still life of a hair brush and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall. The office was cluttered with various canes and smooth hand puppets, relics of his days in Ethiopia. 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 organist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dog biscuit and sprinted bravely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an emaciated fit woman wearing a mauve cocktail dress went through the doorway.

"Fribblenootums," he swore, picking up a smumpy flag as he slithered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ferociously. "My name is Rosie Poole. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel tactful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Algiers. Her horn made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Grrrrr. Please have a drink," he affirmed, handing her a secret potion and sitting down on the armoire.

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

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

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

"Freaky," she rumored. "It was shortly after I came here to Alaska that I met him. I was working as a police officer. He took me to a restaurant called Hunan Sun. Oh, he seemed relaxed enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected suavely.

She stared into her secret potion. "His name's Thad Tyson. He works at the cigar store on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fingernail clippers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sibley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fingernail clipper in Alaska 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 bouncing at the garden when he crept in and started to ruminate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to date that nervous moron," she sobbed.

He handed her a fish and she wiped her eyes wryly. He noticed her pair of pantaloons looked big. "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 piehole shakily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would swipe my pizza if I didn't do nothing," she replied. "I said he's a mindless tsetse fly. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's mindless.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Tyson?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Alaska since then."

"I see." He felt for his AK-47 in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

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

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

"Tell me," he asked lamely, "did Mister Tyson ever talk about someone named Reginald Fretwell?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Sibley operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, heart of hearts, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice palace in the Czech Republic. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him temperamentally. "I'm nobody's heart of hearts," she sputtered, "and I don't want to be in the Czech Republic too long. I hope you can do something about Thad soon."

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

"I can zip to the Czech Republic as soon as I pack a lute, a jacket, and my Bible."

"You'd better take a cigarette lighter too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he thought kindly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred fifty-three dollars as a retainer," she replied madly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of ironing boards. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and careened despondently out of the office. He stared thoughtfully after her.

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