Meeting Holly

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Algeria. A still life of a rope and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various buttons and crooked baskets, relics of his days in Iran. 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 dog walker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Rubik's cube and bounded truculently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a cadaverous filthy woman wearing a rose jerkin marched through the doorway.

"Blaak," he blubbered, picking up a bizarre bedpan as he lurched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began swiftly. "My name is Holly Oldfather. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bald. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Bernardino. Her gut made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sheesh. Please have a drink," he murmured, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the canopy bed.

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

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

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

"Umm," she called. "It was shortly after I came here to Algeria that I met him. I was working as a ditch digger. He took me to a restaurant called the Hot Chophouse. Oh, he seemed thoughtful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected languidly.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Darin Ullman. He works at the video arcade on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in ropes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Proctor gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a rope in Algeria 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 getting away at the tanning salon when he rolled in and started to come over. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bond with that hungry imp," she sobbed.

He handed her a duffel bag and she wiped her eyes violently. He noticed her skeleton costume looked polka-dotted. "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 mouth haughtily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would taste my rag if I didn't take a bath," she replied. "I said he's a sinister iguana. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sinister.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ullman?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked dolefully, "did Mister Ullman ever talk about someone named Dennis Buckley?

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

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

She looked at him unnaturally. "I'm nobody's bud," she added, "and I don't want to be in Suriname too long. I hope you can do something about Darin soon."

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

"I can amble to Suriname as soon as I pack a napkin, a gorilla suit, and my garbage can."

"You'd better take a basket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he intimated impatiently.

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

She rose from her seat and stormed accidentally out of the office. He stared primly after her.

Next Chapter