Mall Crime Fiction, with Dick Wisely

It was mid-September and the night was late, which tipped me off right away, because night was usually punctual, and called if it wasn't going to be on time. I was pulling a double-shift, which was bad, because my doctor warned me about pulling anything heavier than a twenty-five cent slot machine lever.

I was doing my rounds, a round of bourbon and a round of scotch, and checking the locks on the aluminum grill cage that encloses the Orange Julius when it hit me, or rather, she hit me. This dame slammed into me like a ton of bricks--a soft, curvy ton of bricks with all the mortar in the right places. She said she was sorry, but sorry's just another word for an apology, and I already had a monopoly on sorry.

The name badge pinned to her left breast said Karen; I didn't know what the other one was called. I guess that was something I'd have to find out later. She was a tall blonde drink of water, the kind that makes you thirstier the more you drink. Well my throat was already drier than a sand martini, and I didn't have any more olives.

"What was she doing in the mall this late at night?" I asked myself. Well I didn't have an answer so I asked the blonde.

She read me like a book, a grizzled, muscular book that was long overdue; a book with lots of dog-eared pages, and a predictable ending. She knew I wanted something, like an answer to a question, so she told me: "I'm the mall's new cleaning engineer for the midnight shift."

The baby blue polyester get-up she was wearing gave credence to her story, and credence was a currency that was easy to cash. She sounded legit but there was still something about her that was tickled my senses--so I asked her to put down the feather duster.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry about running into you this way," I said, formulating words into a tangible sentence and then vocalizing them. "Perhaps we can catch a cup of java some day."

She nodded in the affirmative, although I've never seen a nod done any other way, and then she disappeared into the food court.

I guess it's not always a bad thing when things go bump in the night, and the bump Karen gave me was worth the bruising. My name is Dick, and that's the way I remember it.