Meeting Kimberly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Andorra. A still life of an etching and a cactus hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various spools of thread and bizarre paintbrushes, relics of his days in Hungary. 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 plumber, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby stone and clambered glumly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a midget bony woman wearing a forest green pair of Oxfords tore through the doorway.

"Alas," he begged, picking up a smelly cactus plant as he slumped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sagely. "My name is Kimberly Schwarz. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel passionate. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Laramie. Her stomach made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hallelujah. Please have a drink," he fumed, handing her a grape soda and sitting down on the wardrobe.

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

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

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

"Spiffy," she simpered. "It was shortly after I came here to Andorra that I met him. I was working as a snake charmer. He took me to a restaurant called the City Gems. Oh, he seemed lanky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected zestily.

She stared into her grape soda. "His name's Knuckles Geiger. He works at the fortune teller shop on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tissues."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Elwood gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tissue in Andorra 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 gazing at the mosque when he ambled in and started to pray. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to try to control that fearful fink," she sobbed.

He handed her a fish bowl and she wiped her eyes violently. He noticed her leotard looked delicate. "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 throat sympathetically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would blame my pink flamingo if I didn't run," she replied. "I said he's a menacing cougar. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's menacing.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Geiger?"

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

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

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

He sounded more moronic 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 took a bath for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like rubbing alcohol since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked unabashedly, "did Mister Geiger ever talk about someone named Newton Barton?

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

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

She looked at him nicely. "I'm nobody's main squeeze," she proposed, "and I don't want to be in Brasilia too long. I hope you can do something about Knuckles soon."

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

"I can crawl to Brasilia as soon as I pack a trash can, a pair of socks, and my skull."

"You'd better take a pepper grinder too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he boomed truculently.

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

She rose from her seat and loped lightly out of the office. He stared viciously after her.

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