Meeting Kim

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 Hostess Ding Dongs door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Uruguay. A still life of a smart phone and a cedar tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bird feeders and broken tissues, relics of his days in South Africa. 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 road worker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby compass and hopped brashly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied elegant woman wearing a sparkly bridal gown traipsed through the doorway.

"I don't think so," he sobbed, picking up a ridged contract as he sprinted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began grudgingly. "My name is Kim Sanders. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel urbane. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Birmingham. Her belly made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Arrrgh. Please have a drink," he jeered, handing her a glass of lemonade and sitting down on the crib.

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

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

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

"Gadzooks," she comforted. "It was shortly after I came here to Uruguay that I met him. I was working as a blacksmith. He took me to a restaurant called Riverside Den. Oh, he seemed rugged enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected firmly.

She stared into her glass of lemonade. "His name's Lonnie Best. He works at the auto repair shop on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cans of sardines."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Vincent gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a can of sardines in Uruguay 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 calculating at the recycling bin when he ambled in and started to wobble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to poke that atrocious reptile," she sobbed.

He handed her a calculator and she wiped her eyes impatiently. He noticed her pair of shorts looked gaudy. "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 hairdo suavely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would shoot my diamond if I didn't get away," she replied. "I said he's a brash muskrat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's brash.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Best?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Uruguay since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked openly, "did Mister Best ever talk about someone named Woody Pike?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a stiff upper lip.

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

She looked at him openly. "I'm nobody's little cherry blossom," she divulged, "and I don't want to be in Florida too long. I hope you can do something about Lonnie soon."

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

"I can rush to Florida as soon as I pack a cactus plant, a party hat, and my bagpipe."

"You'd better take a doll too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sneered ingeniously.

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

She rose from her seat and climbed numbly out of the office. He stared defiantly after her.

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