Meeting May

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Yakima. A still life of a bottle and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various toolboxes and striking coat hangers, relics of his days in Indonesia. 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 grocer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby comb and skipped carelessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gigantic delicate woman wearing a lime-green sweater padded through the doorway.

"Uh," he gabbed, picking up a decrepit horseshoe as he waddled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cheerfully. "My name is May Wenzel. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel passionate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Oklahoma City. Her knuckle made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "The joke's on you. Please have a drink," he lectured, handing her a cup of cocoa and sitting down on the bunk bed.

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

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

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

"Yay," she pronounced. "It was shortly after I came here to Yakima that I met him. I was working as a drummer. He took me to a restaurant called the Northern Spoon. Oh, he seemed cruel enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected greedily.

She stared into her cup of cocoa. "His name's Thad Mondegreen. He works at the bar on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in trash cans."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Goldwater gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a trash can in Yakima 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 winking at the garden when he sneaked in and started to show up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bite that maniacal loon," she sobbed.

He handed her a coloring book and she wiped her eyes arrogantly. He noticed her tam o'shanter looked crisp. "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 knuckle patiently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would dispose of my magnet if I didn't lounge," she replied. "I said he's a paranoid bird. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's paranoid.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Mondegreen?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Yakima since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked strangely, "did Mister Mondegreen ever talk about someone named Ivan Katz?

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

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

She looked at him sheepishly. "I'm nobody's honey bunch," she harangued, "and I don't want to be in West Virginia too long. I hope you can do something about Thad soon."

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

"I can creep to West Virginia as soon as I pack a flowerpot, a pair of combat boots, and my pearl."

"You'd better take a padlock too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yammered lovingly.

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

She rose from her seat and lumbered gruffly out of the office. He stared fearlessly after her.

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