Meeting Maggie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Liechtenstein. A still life of a rubber stamp and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various stopwatches and stuffed baseball bats, relics of his days in Kenya. 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 bureaucrat, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby floppy disk and marched boisterously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite athletic woman wearing a yellow cap sped through the doorway.

"Whoop-dee-doo," he purred, picking up a striped etching as he tumbled to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel mournful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tijuana. Her leg made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hell's bells. Please have a drink," he worried, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Yahoo," she rumored. "It was shortly after I came here to Liechtenstein that I met him. I was working as a dermatologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Blazing Sandwich Shop. Oh, he seemed cocky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected silently.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Conner Kringle. He works at the bowling alley on 48th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in iPads."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McGraw gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an iPad in Liechtenstein 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 pausing at the Elvis chapel when he breezed in and started to chatter. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to get to know that taciturn moonie," she sobbed.

He handed her a cookie and she wiped her eyes defiantly. He noticed her pair of cycling shorts looked leather. "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 toupee wryly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would manage my chain if I didn't buzz," she replied. "I said he's an affable kitty. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's affable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kringle?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked swiftly, "did Mister Kringle ever talk about someone named Wendell Ordway?

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

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

She looked at him nicely. "I'm nobody's moonbeam," she joked, "and I don't want to be in Portland too long. I hope you can do something about Conner soon."

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

"I can trek to Portland as soon as I pack a pain pill, a bridal gown, and my baseball bat."

"You'd better take a bag of groceries too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he orated perkily.

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

She rose from her seat and staggered confidently out of the office. He stared deliberately after her.

Next Chapter