Meeting Joanie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Niger. A still life of a bowl and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various brushes and bulky toilet plungers, relics of his days in South Sudan. 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 clerk, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of binoculars and waded violently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky flabby woman wearing a yellow set of vampire fangs strolled through the doorway.

"By Jove," he stammered, picking up a gross flag as he inched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lazily. "My name is Joanie Austin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel disagreeable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Wilmington. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Shame. Please have a drink," he grieved, handing her a Bacardi and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

"This is difficult for me," she roared, 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 suspiciously.

"Fiddlesticks," she smirked. "It was shortly after I came here to Niger that I met him. I was working as a welder. He took me to a restaurant called the Hungry Greasy Spoon. Oh, he seemed serious enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected strangely.

She stared into her Bacardi. "His name's Elmer Banks. He works at the saloon on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cupcakes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Van Dorn gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cupcake in Niger 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 chanting at the bedroom when he tiptoed in and started to growl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to ostracize that sober birdbrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a baby doll and she wiped her eyes wildly. He noticed her pith helmet looked smooth. "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 pancreas vigorously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would develop my plaque if I didn't hum," she replied. "I said he's a fashionable dodo bird. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fashionable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Banks?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked vacantly, "did Mister Banks ever talk about someone named Nicolas Kling?

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

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

She looked at him dolorously. "I'm nobody's stinkums," she snarled, "and I don't want to be in Jakarta too long. I hope you can do something about Elmer soon."

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

"I can skitter to Jakarta as soon as I pack a handkerchief, a pair of cycling shorts, and my button."

"You'd better take a pop bottle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he babbled glibly.

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

She rose from her seat and rolled majestically out of the office. He stared mysteriously after her.

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