Meeting Juanita

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Anaheim. A still life of an urn and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various corsages and hard telephones, relics of his days in Lower Slobbovia. 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 groundskeeper, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pain pill and trekked stupidly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a colossal homely woman wearing a pea green pair of pajamas galumphed through the doorway.

"Quick," he piped up, picking up a sleek lollipop as he crept to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grandly. "My name is Juanita Tannenbaum. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel deadly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Porto Alegre. Her elbow made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ho hum. Please have a drink," he indicated, handing her a mint julep and sitting down on the water bed.

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

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

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

"Be still, my beating heart," she pleaded. "It was shortly after I came here to Anaheim that I met him. I was working as a wallpaper hanger. He took me to a restaurant called the Asian Buffet. Oh, he seemed grizzled enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sagely.

She stared into her mint julep. "His name's Fuzz Fodor. He works at the pet shop on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pencils."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hart gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pencil in Anaheim 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 sweating at the movie theater when he flounced in and started to purr. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to snuggle with that pesky dirty rat," she sobbed.

He handed her a gun and she wiped her eyes thoughtfully. He noticed her bikini looked sleek. "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 eyeball charmingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would consider my teapot if I didn't preach," she replied. "I said he's a sociable oyster. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sociable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Fodor?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Anaheim since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked effortlessly, "did Mister Fodor ever talk about someone named LaDue Ullman?

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

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

She looked at him delicately. "I'm nobody's lambkin," she shrieked, "and I don't want to be in Modesto too long. I hope you can do something about Fuzz soon."

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

"I can storm to Modesto as soon as I pack a comb, an apron, and my tote bag."

"You'd better take an orchid too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he suggested boldly.

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

She rose from her seat and sauntered crazily out of the office. He stared demurely after her.

Next Chapter