Meeting Anne

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Senegal. A still life of a Helmholz resonator and a bird's nest hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various mousetraps and damaged daisies, relics of his days in Bulgaria. 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 vacuum cleaner salesman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby can of spray paint and sprinted defiantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth plump woman wearing a black G-string waded through the doorway.

"Really," he bawled, picking up a modern diagram as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ferociously. "My name is Anne Sokolov. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel miniscule. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Belgrade. Her foot made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Outstanding. Please have a drink," he declared, handing her a chamomile tea and sitting down on the counter.

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

"This is difficult for me," she analyzed, glancing at the pair of toe shoes he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Like, totally," she hummed. "It was shortly after I came here to Senegal that I met him. I was working as a convenience store clerk. He took me to a restaurant called Hillside Garden. Oh, he seemed sinister enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sarcastically.

She stared into her chamomile tea. "His name's Alistair Brooks. He works at the bowling alley on 49th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in nails."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Soto gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a nail in Senegal 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 cheering up at the recycling bin when he jogged in and started to look angry. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to betray that energetic geek," she sobbed.

He handed her a key ring and she wiped her eyes cruelly. He noticed her bandana looked gooey. "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 tongue blindly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would get my coat hanger if I didn't get sleepy," she replied. "I said he's a refined bison. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's refined.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Brooks?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Senegal since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked unexpectedly, "did Mister Brooks ever talk about someone named Donnie Bob Case?

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

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

She looked at him blissfully. "I'm nobody's shabookadook," she snorted, "and I don't want to be in Algiers too long. I hope you can do something about Alistair soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can dart to Algiers as soon as I pack an egg shell, a set of camo fatigues, and my cane."

"You'd better take a rope too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chuckled menacingly.

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

She rose from her seat and strode furiously out of the office. He stared fiercely after her.

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