Meeting Susanna

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Tallahassee. A still life of a Frisbee and a bit of moss hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various sticks and luxurious baritone saxophones, relics of his days in Somalia. 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 hit man, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pencil and slid steadily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a divine tiny woman wearing a golden headscarf slipped through the doorway.

"Crap," he spoke up, picking up a ragged wastebasket as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began automatically. "My name is Susanna Welles. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel lazy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tempe. Her nose made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Holy frijole. Please have a drink," he brought up, handing her a secret potion and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Spiffy," she chattered. "It was shortly after I came here to Tallahassee that I met him. I was working as an electrician. He took me to a restaurant called Hong Kong Pasta Bar. Oh, he seemed brave enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected fiercely.

She stared into her secret potion. "His name's Edmond Van Hollen. He works at the drug store on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of toothpaste."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Johnston gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of toothpaste in Tallahassee 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 knitting at the saloon when he slid in and started to peep. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to trick that sarcastic donkey," she sobbed.

He handed her an urn and she wiped her eyes perkily. He noticed her jogging suit 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 fingernail fiercely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would darken my ice cream cone if I didn't fulminate," she replied. "I said he's an agile robot. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's agile.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Van Hollen?"

"Only a century; I've only been in Tallahassee since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sagely, "did Mister Van Hollen ever talk about someone named Hoss Binkley?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Johnston 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 studio in Washington. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him zestily. "I'm nobody's honey-pie," she pronounced, "and I don't want to be in Washington too long. I hope you can do something about Edmond soon."

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

"I can bolt to Washington as soon as I pack a bilge pump, a floppy hat, and my floppy disk."

"You'd better take a vacuum cleaner too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he rambled lamely.

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

She rose from her seat and rushed accidentally out of the office. He stared courteously after her.

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