Meeting Sydney

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Sapporo. A still life of a needle and thread and a rock hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various clams and multicolored stacks of papers, relics of his days in Canada. 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 jeweler, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby teapot and rolled greedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a massive small woman wearing an indigo belly button jewel dashed through the doorway.

"Thanks for nothing," he blathered, picking up a gruesome paintbrush as he zipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began temperamentally. "My name is Sydney Tanaka. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel homely. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Phoenix. Her shoulder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Easy peasy. Please have a drink," he questioned, handing her a cappuccino and sitting down on the ottoman.

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

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

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

"Idiot," she asserted. "It was shortly after I came here to Sapporo that I met him. I was working as a clarinetist. He took me to a restaurant called Egyptian Emperor. Oh, he seemed beautiful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected carefully.

She stared into her cappuccino. "His name's Billy Bob Pike. He works at the furniture store on 47th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dollar bills."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Lizard gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dollar bill in Sapporo 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 freezing at the jail when he tore in and started to fall asleep. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to avoid that absent-minded rat," she sobbed.

He handed her a bottle of perfume and she wiped her eyes impatiently. He noticed her blanket looked rusty. "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 cheek reluctantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would finish my billiard ball if I didn't swallow," she replied. "I said he's a stylish badger. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's stylish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Pike?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Sapporo since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked boldly, "did Mister Pike ever talk about someone named Casey Gupta?

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

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

She looked at him sadly. "I'm nobody's doodlebug," she explained, "and I don't want to be in Madison too long. I hope you can do something about Billy Bob soon."

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

"I can careen to Madison as soon as I pack a grease gun, a pair of sweatpants, and my rag."

"You'd better take a Helmholz resonator too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he emphasized sagely.

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

She rose from her seat and jumped neatly out of the office. He stared swiftly after her.

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