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 slowly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling yo-yos door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Nauru. A still life of a stuffed owl and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various helmets and disgusting orchids, relics of his days in Kenya. 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 network administrator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby ping-pong paddle and tiptoed busily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stocky suave woman wearing a pink locket swaggered through the doorway.

"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to," he hissed, picking up a fabulous tissue as he hobbled to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel selfish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Florence. Her tooth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "For the love of Pete. Please have a drink," he stuttered, handing her a hot toddy and sitting down on the nightstand.

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

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

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

"Great Caesar's ghost," she hissed. "It was shortly after I came here to Nauru that I met him. I was working as a cowboy. He took me to a restaurant called the Farmer's Fork. Oh, he seemed cruel enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected warmly.

She stared into her hot toddy. "His name's Austin Ruiz. He works at the auto repair shop on 3rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Big Gulps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Carson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Big Gulp in Nauru 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 passing out at the wine tasting when he trotted in and started to fantasize. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to mock that difficult dumbbell," she sobbed.

He handed her an umbrella and she wiped her eyes suspiciously. He noticed her pair of combat boots looked papery. "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 spinal cord sheepishly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would shrink my pencil sharpener if I didn't come to," she replied. "I said he's an atrocious deer. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's atrocious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ruiz?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Nauru since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked despondently, "did Mister Ruiz ever talk about someone named Mark Bede?

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

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

She looked at him energetically. "I'm nobody's honey pie," she chimed, "and I don't want to be in Poland too long. I hope you can do something about Austin soon."

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

"I can canter to Poland as soon as I pack a feather duster, a babushka, and my paper towel."

"You'd better take an apple too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he debated crossly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred eighty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied cleverly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of boomerangs. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and dove lazily out of the office. He stared resignedly after her.

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