Meeting Annalouise

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in São Paulo. A still life of a cracker and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various iPods and automatic corks, relics of his days in Belize. 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 news reporter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby baby doll and danced lamely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stumpy plain woman wearing an olive drab bonnet tiptoed through the doorway.

"Ha-ha," he warbled, picking up a decrepit tennis racket as he clambered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ruefully. "My name is Annalouise Snively. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel solitary. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Phoenix. Her claw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Fiddlesticks. Please have a drink," he requested, handing her a glass of KoolAid and sitting down on the casket.

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

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

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

"Crikey," she squeaked. "It was shortly after I came here to São Paulo that I met him. I was working as a blogger. He took me to a restaurant called the Brass Fortress. Oh, he seemed fuzzy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected glumly.

She stared into her glass of KoolAid. "His name's Barry Khanh. He works at the perfumery on 34th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in feathers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Dalton gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a feather in São Paulo 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 buzzing at the Elvis chapel when he lumbered in and started to wobble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to punish that bad dip," she sobbed.

He handed her a sea shell and she wiped her eyes merrily. He noticed her surgical mask looked chic. "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 little finger warily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would lynch my toolbox if I didn't rest," she replied. "I said he's a disgusting cocker spaniel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's disgusting.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Khanh?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked slowly, "did Mister Khanh ever talk about someone named Darryl Tinnerman?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Dalton operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, dear, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice geodesic dome in St. Petersburg. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him mysteriously. "I'm nobody's dear," she proposed, "and I don't want to be in St. Petersburg too long. I hope you can do something about Barry soon."

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

"I can whirl to St. Petersburg as soon as I pack a telephone, a cloak, and my hot potato."

"You'd better take a box of candy too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he joked deliberately.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred sixty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied woodenly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of teddy bears. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and crawled humbly out of the office. He stared victoriously after her.

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