Meeting Maggie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Norway. A still life of a picture and a bird's nest hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pairs of scissors and hideous file folders, relics of his days in Cambodia. 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 drunkard, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chess set and blundered thankfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt feeble woman wearing a peach coat lurched through the doorway.

"Can it," he laughed, picking up a broken toilet plunger as he sallied forth to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began roughly. "My name is Maggie Nilsson. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cute. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Wichita. Her piehole made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ah. Please have a drink," he acknowledged, handing her a margarita and sitting down on the credenza.

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

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

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

"Is that a fact," she nattered. "It was shortly after I came here to Norway that I met him. I was working as a real estate agent. He took me to a restaurant called the Stellar Enchiladas. Oh, he seemed spindly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected impatiently.

She stared into her margarita. "His name's Louie Justice. He works at the video arcade on 33rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in telephone books."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Abrams gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a telephone book in Norway 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 dilly-dallying at the health food store when he tore in and started to apologize. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to call the cops on that moronic villain," she sobbed.

He handed her a pom-pom and she wiped her eyes miserably. He noticed her bustier looked bizarre. "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 gut sharply. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pluck my toilet plunger if I didn't seethe," she replied. "I said he's a crazy koala. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's crazy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Justice?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Norway since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked offhandedly, "did Mister Justice ever talk about someone named Max Finney?

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

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

She looked at him hysterically. "I'm nobody's pipkin," she tittered, "and I don't want to be in Hong Kong too long. I hope you can do something about Louie soon."

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

"I can slump to Hong Kong as soon as I pack a pail, a T-shirt, and my dog collar."

"You'd better take a ticket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he announced wearily.

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

She rose from her seat and sashayed carefully out of the office. He stared thoughtfully after her.

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