Meeting Mama

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in El Paso. A still life of a stopwatch and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various apples and aromatic shoes, relics of his days in Japan. 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 chief of police, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby teacup and skidded lazily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a haggard thin woman wearing a red pair of dentures sidled through the doorway.

"Remarkable," he prattled, picking up an ordinary sea shell as he ran to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel loving. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Louisville. Her esophagus made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "For cryin' out loud. Please have a drink," he responded, handing her a glass of grape juice and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"Whoa," she responded. "It was shortly after I came here to El Paso that I met him. I was working as a woodworker. He took me to a restaurant called California Wall. Oh, he seemed evil enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected silently.

She stared into her glass of grape juice. "His name's Buster Lucas. He works at the video arcade on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in primroses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hill gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a primrose in El Paso 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 rock concert when he skidded in and started to crouch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to marry that attractive clod," she sobbed.

He handed her a yardstick and she wiped her eyes charmingly. He noticed her few flexible rags looked hefty. "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 furiously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would inflate my roll of toilet paper if I didn't lie down," she replied. "I said he's a spunky elk. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's spunky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lucas?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in El Paso since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister Lucas ever talk about someone named Brent Sarma?

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

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

She looked at him coldly. "I'm nobody's heart of hearts," she preached, "and I don't want to be in Rio too long. I hope you can do something about Buster soon."

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

"I can march to Rio as soon as I pack a cigar, a black belt, and my hair dryer."

"You'd better take a clothespin too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he alleged haughtily.

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

She rose from her seat and sneaked smoothly out of the office. He stared lightly after her.

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