Meeting April

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Arkansas. A still life of a horseshoe and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various duffel bags and puzzling keys, relics of his days in Korea. 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 butcher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of binoculars and jogged carelessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous sorrowful woman wearing an orange set of pink foam curlers sprinted through the doorway.

"Wahoo," he sniffed, picking up a dirty advertisement as he dashed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began excitedly. "My name is April Windle. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel affable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Montgomery. Her adrenal gland made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Son of a gun. Please have a drink," he observed, handing her a glass of grape juice and sitting down on the cash register.

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

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

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

"Kapow," she breathed. "It was shortly after I came here to Arkansas that I met him. I was working as a snake charmer. He took me to a restaurant called the Stellar Oven. Oh, he seemed demented enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected vacantly.

She stared into her glass of grape juice. "His name's Plato McKenzie. He works at the movie theater on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in combs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Richter gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a comb in Arkansas 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 snickering at the wine tasting when he danced in and started to yawn. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to grill that beautiful weevil," she sobbed.

He handed her a corncob and she wiped her eyes bravely. He noticed her badge looked prickly. "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 face brashly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would refine my cream puff if I didn't kneel," she replied. "I said he's a dumb donkey. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dumb.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McKenzie?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked unnaturally, "did Mister McKenzie ever talk about someone named Dylan Dick?

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

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

She looked at him obediently. "I'm nobody's twinkles," she cajoled, "and I don't want to be in Lubbock too long. I hope you can do something about Plato soon."

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

"I can amble to Lubbock as soon as I pack a pair of dice, a coat of mail, and my key."

"You'd better take an amulet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he groveled dubiously.

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

She rose from her seat and inched courageously out of the office. He stared irritably after her.

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