Meeting Dagmar

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Botswana. A still life of a handkerchief and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various boxes and frilly mousetraps, relics of his days in Malta. 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 disk jockey, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flyswatter and blundered frantically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby redheaded woman wearing a jade false moustache made a beeline through the doorway.

"Oh my word," he asserted, picking up a hefty bouquet as he galumphed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began violently. "My name is Dagmar Irons. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bold. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Garland. Her Adam's apple made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Pssst. Please have a drink," he sputtered, handing her a Sangría and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Castor and Pollux! Blow me to Bermuda," she hummed. "It was shortly after I came here to Botswana that I met him. I was working as a parole officer. He took me to a restaurant called the Fast House of Delights. Oh, he seemed vacuous enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected recklessly.

She stared into her Sangría. "His name's Zachary Cain. He works at the dry cleaner on 49th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in joints."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Mars gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a joint in Botswana 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 jumping at the saloon when he sauntered in and started to dawdle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hide from that colorless halfwit," she sobbed.

He handed her a cactus plant and she wiped her eyes unabashedly. He noticed her pair of overalls looked ruined. "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 hairdo sorrowfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would exclude my yo-yo if I didn't fidget," she replied. "I said he's a muscular lion. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's muscular.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Cain?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Botswana since then."

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

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

He sounded more contented than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his carotid artery like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and hung around 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 gleefully, "did Mister Cain ever talk about someone named Martin Nesbitt?

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

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

She looked at him proudly. "I'm nobody's beloved," she joked, "and I don't want to be in Little Rock too long. I hope you can do something about Zachary soon."

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

"I can sneak to Little Rock as soon as I pack a china doll, a pair of pantaloons, and my saw."

"You'd better take a pain pill too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he breathed nimbly.

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

She rose from her seat and careened softly out of the office. He stared deliberately after her.

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