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 nimbly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling nails door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Lebanon. A still life of a houseplant and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various Kindles and fabulous paper airplanes, relics of his days in Armenia. 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 neurologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stuffed owl and struggled thankfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a prodigious grubby woman wearing a pink negligee proceeded through the doorway.

"Okay then," he debated, picking up an electronic statue as he loped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began later. "My name is So-Yeng Fretwell. 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 Savannah. Her lung made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Praise the Lord. Please have a drink," he whispered, handing her a double latte and sitting down on the umbrella stand.

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

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

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

"Yowee," she chanted. "It was shortly after I came here to Lebanon that I met him. I was working as a builder. He took me to a restaurant called Tokyo Urn. Oh, he seemed wicked enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ferociously.

She stared into her double latte. "His name's Justin Eppley. He works at the insurance agency on 13th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in chamber pots."

"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 chamber pot in Lebanon 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 wiggling at the party when he waded in and started to bark. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to kick that smart bum," she sobbed.

He handed her a toy and she wiped her eyes blindly. He noticed her bustier looked small. "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 toenail strictly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my stuffed kitten if I didn't laugh," she replied. "I said he's a prissy android. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's prissy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Eppley?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in Lebanon since then."

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

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

He sounded more rude than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his eye like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and flailed 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 grandly, "did Mister Eppley ever talk about someone named Lauren Oggendorf?

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

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

She looked at him majestically. "I'm nobody's baby-doll," she yawned, "and I don't want to be in Albuquerque too long. I hope you can do something about Justin soon."

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

"I can swagger to Albuquerque as soon as I pack a dog collar, a bonnet, and my hand puppet."

"You'd better take a pack of gum too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mentioned obediently.

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

She rose from her seat and dove nervously out of the office. He stared sleepily after her.

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