Meeting Sydney

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Benin. A still life of a coat hanger and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various tops and disgusting sacks of potatoes, relics of his days in Nepal. 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 social worker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby hammer and slid doubtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky spindly woman wearing an olive green bandana scooted through the doorway.

"I'm sure," he bragged, picking up a multicolored campaign sign as he waltzed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began ingeniously. "My name is Sydney Cochran. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel megalomaniacal. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Baghdad. Her calf made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "What the devil. Please have a drink," he piped up, handing her a can of Ensure and sitting down on the display case.

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

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

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

"Nuts," she trumpeted. "It was shortly after I came here to Benin that I met him. I was working as an upholsterer. He took me to a restaurant called Chinatown King. Oh, he seemed spunky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blankly.

She stared into her can of Ensure. "His name's Casey Jordan. He works at the haberdashery on 49th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in snowballs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Fox gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a snowball in Benin 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 drooling at the recycling bin when he sallied forth in and started to come over. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to pat that mindless pig," she sobbed.

He handed her a Rubik's cube and she wiped her eyes sharply. He noticed her fez looked petite. "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 antenna joyously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stain my African violet if I didn't chortle," she replied. "I said he's a perky lobster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's perky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Jordan?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Benin since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister Jordan ever talk about someone named Parson Clooney?

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

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

She looked at him fervently. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she indicated, "and I don't want to be in Washington too long. I hope you can do something about Casey soon."

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

"I can straggle to Washington as soon as I pack a vase, a pair of bloomers, and my necklace."

"You'd better take a firecracker too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he joked effortlessly.

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

She rose from her seat and ambled sweetly out of the office. He stared dubiously after her.

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