Meeting Babs

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Nauru. A still life of a pearl and a dead fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various brochures and fluffy paperweights, relics of his days in Russia. 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 nutritionist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby acorn and sidled madly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slight pimply woman wearing a peach pair of khakis ran through the doorway.

"Dubious," he shuddered, picking up a colossal orange as he sailed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began nervously. "My name is Babs Werner. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel freakish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Belgrade. Her wrist made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Grody to the max. Please have a drink," he recited, handing her a root beer and sitting down on the wine rack.

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

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

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

"Say what," she wept. "It was shortly after I came here to Nauru that I met him. I was working as a flutist. He took me to a restaurant called Beijing Magic. Oh, he seemed cuddly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gently.

She stared into her root beer. "His name's Tommy Lancaster. He works at the candy store on 35th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in mousetraps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nagy gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a mousetrap in Nauru 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 chewing at the rock concert when he went in and started to meditate. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to joke with that vacuous sap," she sobbed.

He handed her a houseplant and she wiped her eyes pityingly. He noticed her bicycle helmet looked wooden. "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 piehole timidly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would slice my Band-aid if I didn't shrivel," she replied. "I said he's a daring dachshund. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's daring.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lancaster?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Nauru since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked glumly, "did Mister Lancaster ever talk about someone named Adam Kennedy?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an evil eye.

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Nagy 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 cardboard box in Augusta. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him elatedly. "I'm nobody's dreamboat," she uttered, "and I don't want to be in Augusta too long. I hope you can do something about Tommy soon."

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

"I can hop to Augusta as soon as I pack a snail, a pocket watch, and my ticket."

"You'd better take a china doll too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he hummed needlessly.

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

She rose from her seat and traipsed hysterically out of the office. He stared peevishly after her.

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