Meeting Rosa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Antarctica. A still life of a teapot and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cookbooks and fluffy clipboards, relics of his days in South Sudan. 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 fruit picker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby paperclip and sallied forth fearlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard bearded woman wearing a sea green cardigan proceeded through the doorway.

"Fun," he ranted, picking up a huge piece of candy as he scooted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began obediently. "My name is Rosa Walton. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel disagreeable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Reno. Her neck made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Say what. Please have a drink," he bellowed, handing her a mint julep and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"Zounds," she maintained. "It was shortly after I came here to Antarctica that I met him. I was working as a stamp collector. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Waterfall. Oh, he seemed haggard enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gently.

She stared into her mint julep. "His name's Alton McDonald. He works at the newsstand on 37th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in yardsticks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nolan gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a yardstick in Antarctica 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 treading water at the library when he bolted in and started to come to. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to sing to that charming imposter," she sobbed.

He handed her a magnifying glass and she wiped her eyes tenderly. He noticed her motorcycle helmet looked miniature. "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 beard angrily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would face my stone if I didn't mutter," she replied. "I said he's a spindly gecko. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's spindly.'"

"How long have you known Mr. McDonald?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Antarctica since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked briskly, "did Mister McDonald ever talk about someone named Running Bear Brainard?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an evil eye.

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

She looked at him testily. "I'm nobody's gentle soul," she provoked, "and I don't want to be in the Maldives too long. I hope you can do something about Alton soon."

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

"I can creep to the Maldives as soon as I pack a sack, a tunic, and my whoopee cushion."

"You'd better take a joint too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he queried menacingly.

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

She rose from her seat and trotted vigorously out of the office. He stared valiantly after her.

Next Chapter