Meeting Carina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Namibia. A still life of a muffin and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various umbrellas and burned compasses, relics of his days in France. 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 ship's officer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rock and slipped quickly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal alert woman wearing a red skeleton costume inched through the doorway.

"For heaven's sake," he scoffed, picking up a burned salt shaker as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began merrily. "My name is Carina Flake. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel perky. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Delhi. Her calf made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Kazow. Please have a drink," he griped, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the wooden crate.

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

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

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

"Shhh," she divulged. "It was shortly after I came here to Namibia that I met him. I was working as a manicurist. He took me to a restaurant called the Lucky Orchid. Oh, he seemed elderly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected testily.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Jim Oggendorf. He works at the pub on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in buttons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hill gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a button in Namibia 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 puffing at the Elvis chapel when he galumphed in and started to fantasize. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to outwit that poised hoodlum," she sobbed.

He handed her a key ring and she wiped her eyes gently. He noticed her pair of galoshes looked cardboard. "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 skull urgently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would watch my bag of popcorn if I didn't fantasize," she replied. "I said he's a merry banana slug. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's merry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Oggendorf?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Namibia since then."

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

"Okay, so this Jim Oggendorf 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 knee like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and jiggled for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a saloon since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked suspiciously, "did Mister Oggendorf ever talk about someone named René Corialis?

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

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

She looked at him pityingly. "I'm nobody's apple of my eye," she shrieked, "and I don't want to be in El Paso too long. I hope you can do something about Jim soon."

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

"I can inch to El Paso as soon as I pack an iPhone, a poodle skirt, and my peach."

"You'd better take a hat too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he invited majestically.

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

She rose from her seat and slunk strangely out of the office. He stared vigorously after her.

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