Meeting Dagmar

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Jakarta. A still life of an orange and a feather hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Kindles and old crystal balls, relics of his days in Bolivia. 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 network administrator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bird bath and waltzed frenetically toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a small disheveled woman wearing a crimson set of dentures slid through the doorway.

"Boom," he answered, picking up a huge spoon as he staggered to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel weird. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Auckland. Her arm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bless my hide. Please have a drink," he affirmed, handing her a gimlet and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Eeek," she croaked. "It was shortly after I came here to Jakarta that I met him. I was working as a physical therapist. He took me to a restaurant called the Galloping Inn. Oh, he seemed tactful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected madly.

She stared into her gimlet. "His name's Robin Goossens. He works at the brewery on 8th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of fuzzy dice."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sahoo gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of fuzzy dice in Jakarta 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 nodding off at the bowling alley when he skittered in and started to get dizzy. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to hypnotize that friendly snoop," she sobbed.

He handed her a toilet plunger and she wiped her eyes calmly. He noticed her earring looked fresh. "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 midriff daintily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would get my pot if I didn't snort," she replied. "I said he's a gentle ass. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's gentle.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Goossens?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Jakarta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sadly, "did Mister Goossens ever talk about someone named Kris Gagné?

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

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

She looked at him solemnly. "I'm nobody's pork chop," she quavered, "and I don't want to be in Lebanon too long. I hope you can do something about Robin soon."

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

"I can dive to Lebanon as soon as I pack a billiard ball, a camisole, and my pair of knitting needles."

"You'd better take a stone too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he shouted happily.

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

She rose from her seat and inched sadly out of the office. He stared obediently after her.

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