Meeting Rosie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Lima. A still life of a tablet computer and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Rubik's cubes and mechanical advertisements, relics of his days in Puerto Rico. 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 waiter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bustier and struggled positively toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed gangling woman wearing a blue pair of handcuffs scurried through the doorway.

"Beshrew me," he decided, picking up an important napkin as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ignobly. "My name is Rosie Quintero. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cantankerous. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Charlotte. Her ego made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Heavens to murgatroyd. Please have a drink," he wondered, handing her a bottle of Gatorade and sitting down on the bunk bed.

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

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

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

"Son of a Baptist preacher," she squeaked. "It was shortly after I came here to Lima that I met him. I was working as a petroleum engineer. He took me to a restaurant called the Silk House of Sushi. Oh, he seemed sociable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected recklessly.

She stared into her bottle of Gatorade. "His name's Boots Doe. He works at the bowling alley on 38th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in advertisements."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Berkowitz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an advertisement in Lima 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 howling at the supermarket when he breezed in and started to back up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to greet that fiendish dork," she sobbed.

He handed her a coin and she wiped her eyes demurely. He noticed her pair of culottes looked rare. "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 hand intensely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would switch my ticket if I didn't growl," she replied. "I said he's a cunning chimpanzee. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cunning.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Doe?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked slyly, "did Mister Doe ever talk about someone named Rich Kim?

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

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

She looked at him wearily. "I'm nobody's honey," she laughed, "and I don't want to be in Memphis too long. I hope you can do something about Boots soon."

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

"I can tear to Memphis as soon as I pack a bag of popcorn, a flak jacket, and my iPod."

"You'd better take a pillow too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he indicated gingerly.

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

She rose from her seat and tramped glibly out of the office. He stared daintily after her.

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