Meeting Bria

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Baton Rouge. A still life of a fossil and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various hair dryers and papery computers, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 wine merchant, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby grease gun and zoomed vacantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely stocky woman wearing a jet black armband lumbered through the doorway.

"Yowsers," he jeered, picking up a narrow box as he ran to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gracefully. "My name is Bria Kollmorgen. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel muddled. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hong Kong. Her thumb made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "That's crazy talk. Please have a drink," he comforted, handing her a Seven and Seven and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"Shoot," she boasted. "It was shortly after I came here to Baton Rouge that I met him. I was working as a nun. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Cow. Oh, he seemed gregarious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected grimly.

She stared into her Seven and Seven. "His name's Yancey Bates. He works at the fabric store on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pencil sharpeners."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Brooks gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pencil sharpener in Baton Rouge 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 cheering at the radio station when he breezed in and started to collapse. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to replace that jaunty pighead," she sobbed.

He handed her a cork and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her kilt looked synthetic. "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 adrenal gland fiercely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would kick my BB gun if I didn't clear out," she replied. "I said he's a hairy dachshund. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hairy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Bates?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gruffly, "did Mister Bates ever talk about someone named Louis Greenwood?

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

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

She looked at him proudly. "I'm nobody's darling," she asked, "and I don't want to be in Mongolia too long. I hope you can do something about Yancey soon."

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

"I can slither to Mongolia as soon as I pack a bag, a ponytail, and my piece of chalk."

"You'd better take a cream puff too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he snorted elatedly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's nineteen dollars as a retainer," she replied quickly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of spinning wheels. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and dashed menacingly out of the office. He stared caustically after her.

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