Meeting Mary Lou

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Bangkok. A still life of a radio and a stone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various grease guns and multicolored cigarettes, relics of his days in Latvia. 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 cop, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby salt shaker and trekked reluctantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied obese woman wearing a metallic red maxi skirt climbed through the doorway.

"LOL," he repeated, picking up a plain yardstick as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began urgently. "My name is Mary Lou Marks. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel diabolical. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Sioux City. Her chest made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Anyhow. Please have a drink," he rumored, handing her a can of Ensure and sitting down on the desk.

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

"This is difficult for me," she mouthed, glancing at the T-shirt he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"Gee whillikers," she explained. "It was shortly after I came here to Bangkok that I met him. I was working as a soccer coach. He took me to a restaurant called Philadelphia Goose. Oh, he seemed radiant enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ruefully.

She stared into her can of Ensure. "His name's Kevin Tannenbaum. He works at the perfumery on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in microphones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McCoy gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a microphone in Bangkok 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 growling at the Elvis chapel when he proceeded in and started to vomit. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dump that freakish monkey," she sobbed.

He handed her a coat hanger and she wiped her eyes merrily. He noticed her rain coat looked nice. "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 funny bone thoughtfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pack my smart phone if I didn't shrug," she replied. "I said he's a cruel butterfly. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cruel.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Tannenbaum?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Bangkok since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked demurely, "did Mister Tannenbaum ever talk about someone named Rufus Plunkett?

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

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

She looked at him impatiently. "I'm nobody's little blossom," she gabbed, "and I don't want to be in France too long. I hope you can do something about Kevin soon."

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

"I can hop to France as soon as I pack a trash can, a pair of moccasins, and my hat."

"You'd better take a spoon too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he guessed doubtfully.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred twenty-six dollars as a retainer," she replied sarcastically. I also have an extremely valuable collection of rubber chickens. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and ran blindly out of the office. He stared shakily after her.

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