Meeting Mary Lou

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Richmond. A still life of a baby doll and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various vacuum cleaners and slimy bags of potato chips, relics of his days in New Zealand. 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 traveling salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby package and pranced immediately toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite gaunt woman wearing a brown winter coat paraded through the doorway.

"Ouch," he harangued, picking up a dusty Happy Meal as he skittered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began again. "My name is Mary Lou Townley. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel confident. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Edinburgh. Her tail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Spiffy. Please have a drink," he panted, handing her an Alka-Seltzer and sitting down on the wooden crate.

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

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

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

"Banzai," she smirked. "It was shortly after I came here to Richmond that I met him. I was working as a pediatrician. He took me to a restaurant called Szechuan Feast. Oh, he seemed dowdy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.

She stared into her Alka-Seltzer. "His name's Shane Hruska. He works at the bike shop on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in mirrors."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lindgren gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a mirror in Richmond 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 seething at the wine tasting when he padded in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to aggravate that sociable ninny," she sobbed.

He handed her a chair and she wiped her eyes coldly. He noticed her Armani suit looked miniature. "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 back quickly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would expand my pair of fuzzy dice if I didn't screech," she replied. "I said he's a lazy mongoose. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's lazy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hruska?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hysterically, "did Mister Hruska ever talk about someone named Dusty Gates?

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

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

She looked at him carefully. "I'm nobody's honey-bunny," she snarled, "and I don't want to be in Sweden too long. I hope you can do something about Shane soon."

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

"I can bolt to Sweden as soon as I pack a soccer ball, a pair of culottes, and my screwdriver."

"You'd better take an orange too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he complained smoothly.

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

She rose from her seat and sashayed uneasily out of the office. He stared grandly after her.

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