Meeting Carol

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Kentucky. A still life of a can of sardines and an apple tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cans of beans and thick African violets, relics of his days in Latvia. 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 mattress tester, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coloring book and slunk gratefully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall plain woman wearing a sparkly set of dentures scooted through the doorway.

"Fribblenootums," he laughed, picking up a crooked fork as he sidled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began woefully. "My name is Carol Berry. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel lively. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Casablanca. Her thumb made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ha. Please have a drink," he growled, handing her a Manhattan and sitting down on the dresser.

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

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

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

"Land's sakes," she implored. "It was shortly after I came here to Kentucky that I met him. I was working as a ballroom dancer. He took me to a restaurant called Atlantic House of Sushi. Oh, he seemed annoying enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected admiringly.

She stared into her Manhattan. "His name's Giovanni Coleman. He works at the liquor store on 34th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tablet computers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Cole gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tablet computer in Kentucky 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 dreaming at the health food store when he waddled in and started to get along. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to analyze that spunky gossip," she sobbed.

He handed her a washrag and she wiped her eyes pityingly. He noticed her belt looked nice. "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 gall bladder elatedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would wipe my coat hanger if I didn't swear," she replied. "I said he's a wily frog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wily.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Coleman?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked gently, "did Mister Coleman ever talk about someone named Abe Lamb?

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

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

She looked at him clumsily. "I'm nobody's turtle dove," she analyzed, "and I don't want to be in Costa Rica too long. I hope you can do something about Giovanni soon."

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

"I can sidle to Costa Rica as soon as I pack a toolbox, a turtleneck, and my hockey puck."

"You'd better take a coat check ticket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he exploded despondently.

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

She rose from her seat and sidled peevishly out of the office. He stared ferociously after her.

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