Meeting Brandie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Norfolk. A still life of an iPhone and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various crystal balls and torn pairs of pliers, relics of his days in Saudi Arabia. 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 animal trainer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diary and slipped perkily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a miniature pale woman wearing a fuchsia black belt staggered through the doorway.

"Woohoo," he called, picking up a gooey statue as he zoomed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began crossly. "My name is Brandie Blake. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel stylish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bangalore. Her hangnail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Zap. Please have a drink," he amended, handing her a glass of orange juice and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Bowwow," she bellowed. "It was shortly after I came here to Norfolk that I met him. I was working as a fisherman. He took me to a restaurant called the Rolling Barn. Oh, he seemed homely enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nicely.

She stared into her glass of orange juice. "His name's Wendell Elwood. He works at the convenience store on 13th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Boudreaux gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bone in Norfolk 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 running at the K-Mart when he skidded in and started to chatter. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to enlighten that vivacious so-and-so," she sobbed.

He handed her a comic book and she wiped her eyes cautiously. He noticed her pair of safety glasses looked musty. "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 thyroid gland suddenly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would forget my doily if I didn't squeak," she replied. "I said he's a desperate boar. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's desperate.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Elwood?"

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

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

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

He sounded more heavyset 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 froze for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like potpourri since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked later, "did Mister Elwood ever talk about someone named Fuzz Dalton?

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

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

She looked at him calmly. "I'm nobody's dreamboat," she maintained, "and I don't want to be in Mauritius too long. I hope you can do something about Wendell soon."

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

"I can traipse to Mauritius as soon as I pack a teapot, a pair of roller skates, and my wrench."

"You'd better take a diamond too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he tittered warily.

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

She rose from her seat and sprinted sorrowfully out of the office. He stared recklessly after her.

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