Meeting So-Yeng

He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought suddenly. 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 ninth floor of an aging building in Comoros. A still life of a feather and a maple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various photographs and amazing bats, relics of his days in Guatemala. 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 scout, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby dish and cantered strangely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby eye-catching woman wearing a scarlet set of vampire fangs padded through the doorway.

"Inconceivable," he reacted, picking up a black hammer as he sashayed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began wryly. "My name is So-Yeng Lott. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sensible. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Manila. Her kneecap made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ay chihuahua. Please have a drink," he raved, handing her a gimlet and sitting down on the desk.

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

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

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

"Oh my," she cried. "It was shortly after I came here to Comoros that I met him. I was working as a gemcutter. He took me to a restaurant called the Galloping Sea. Oh, he seemed dapper enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected patiently.

She stared into her gimlet. "His name's Mario Gagné. He works at the haberdashery on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in shoes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the England gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a shoe in Comoros 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 looking angry at the library when he stormed in and started to sit still. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to believe that disagreeable oaf," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of headphones and she wiped her eyes bitterly. He noticed her raincoat looked gross. "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 elbow tearfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would engrave my wastebasket if I didn't whirl," she replied. "I said he's an adorable mustang. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's adorable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Gagné?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Comoros since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked again, "did Mister Gagné ever talk about someone named Mac Nye?

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

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

She looked at him miserably. "I'm nobody's cookie," she recited, "and I don't want to be in Augusta too long. I hope you can do something about Mario soon."

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

"I can wade to Augusta as soon as I pack a bugle, a set of vampire fangs, and my hammer."

"You'd better take a pencil too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sneered curiously.

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

She rose from her seat and lumbered admiringly out of the office. He stared effortlessly after her.

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