Meeting Paige

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Honolulu. A still life of a can of soup and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various blank checks and hand-made fountain pens, relics of his days in Argentina. 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 boat captain, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stamp and straggled cautiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely tall woman wearing an olive drab diamond necklace sailed through the doorway.

"Great Jehosaphat," he raved, picking up a brown pencil as he climbed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began breathlessly. "My name is Paige Seaman. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel exuberant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Amarillo. Her eyelash made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Really. Please have a drink," he guessed, handing her a tonic and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Is that a fact," she grunted. "It was shortly after I came here to Honolulu that I met him. I was working as a courier. He took me to a restaurant called the Hometown Pie Kitchen. Oh, he seemed sleek enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected valiantly.

She stared into her tonic. "His name's Owen Meyer. He works at the health food store on 43rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Lego sets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fields gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Lego set in Honolulu 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 smiling at the restaurant when he lumbered in and started to back up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bore that jaunty dork," she sobbed.

He handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes fiercely. He noticed her fig leaf looked gigantic. "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 wrist boisterously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hit my can of beer if I didn't burble," she replied. "I said he's an unruffled tropical fish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's unruffled.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Meyer?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked despondently, "did Mister Meyer ever talk about someone named Jimmy Fink?

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

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

She looked at him sheepishly. "I'm nobody's toots," she boasted, "and I don't want to be in El Paso too long. I hope you can do something about Owen soon."

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

"I can flounce to El Paso as soon as I pack a padlock, a sundress, and my spinning wheel."

"You'd better take a Band-aid too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he stated hopelessly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred thirty-seven dollars as a retainer," she replied arrogantly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cigarettes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and leapt doubtfully out of the office. He stared queerly after her.

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