Meeting Meg

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Buffalo. A still life of a flyswatter and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various sticks and rough lollipops, relics of his days in Mongolia. 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 rock musician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPod and galloped cruelly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt winsome woman wearing a jade class ring pranced through the doorway.

"Hallelujah," he wailed, picking up a golden twig as he sneaked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began impatiently. "My name is Meg Eklund. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel fuzzy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Irvine. Her toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nooo. Please have a drink," he orated, handing her a rum and Coke and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"Quiet," she exploded. "It was shortly after I came here to Buffalo that I met him. I was working as a mechanic. He took me to a restaurant called Double Table. Oh, he seemed evil enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected courageously.

She stared into her rum and Coke. "His name's Everett Ortmann. He works at the jewelry store on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in blankets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Rush gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a blanket in Buffalo 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 looking smart at the health food store when he straggled in and started to dress up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to heckle that eccentric drunken royster," she sobbed.

He handed her an arrowhead and she wiped her eyes ruefully. He noticed her tailcoat looked aromatic. "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 waist delicately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would blacken my twig if I didn't do nothing," she replied. "I said he's a freakish dragon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's freakish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ortmann?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Buffalo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked humbly, "did Mister Ortmann ever talk about someone named Waldo Naipaul?

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

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

She looked at him stupidly. "I'm nobody's dearest," she opined, "and I don't want to be in Dallas too long. I hope you can do something about Everett soon."

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

"I can swing to Dallas as soon as I pack a crate, a pair of UGGs, and my banana."

"You'd better take an antenna too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he retorted fearfully.

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

She rose from her seat and whirled quietly out of the office. He stared miserably after her.

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