Meeting June

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Little Rock. A still life of a compass and a twig hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various fossils and rusty darts, relics of his days in Tibet. 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 weatherman, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pinwheel and sallied forth sweetly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slinky dashing woman wearing a brilliant orange heavy layer of makeup slipped through the doorway.

"Uh," he hummed, picking up a mysterious paper clip as he trekked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gruffly. "My name is June Pope. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel playful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fairbanks. Her skin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Oh my word. Please have a drink," he disputed, handing her a Pepto Bismol and sitting down on the pool table.

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

"This is difficult for me," she exclaimed, glancing at the pair of flip-flops he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."

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

"As if," she yowled. "It was shortly after I came here to Little Rock that I met him. I was working as a prisoner. He took me to a restaurant called the Bamboo House. Oh, he seemed distressed enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected cunningly.

She stared into her Pepto Bismol. "His name's Arnie Barber. He works at the craft store on 25th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in boomerangs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Dietrich gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a boomerang in Little Rock 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 exercising at the orchestra concert when he tramped in and started to buzz. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to love that cautious punk," she sobbed.

He handed her a spool of thread and she wiped her eyes numbly. He noticed her bikini looked stuffed. "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 Achilles tendon sweetly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pack my circular saw if I didn't shrivel," she replied. "I said he's a disgusting gorilla. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's disgusting.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Barber?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked roughly, "did Mister Barber ever talk about someone named Shepard Bogart?

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

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

She looked at him carelessly. "I'm nobody's mon bébé," she quavered, "and I don't want to be in Peru too long. I hope you can do something about Arnie soon."

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

"I can tear to Peru as soon as I pack an orchid, a coat of mail, and my flower."

"You'd better take a pink flamingo too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he admitted firmly.

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

She rose from her seat and lurched briskly out of the office. He stared hastily after her.

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