Meeting Theresa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Newark. A still life of a hip flask and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various purses and gooey tissues, relics of his days in Netherlands. 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 judge, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of potato chips and sneaked grimly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied youthful woman wearing a golden pair of pajamas made a beeline through the doorway.

"Ay chihuahua," he lamented, picking up a filthy pink flamingo as he pranced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began reluctantly. "My name is Theresa Northrum. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel proud. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Bangkok. Her forehead made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bilge. Please have a drink," he fumed, handing her a Bacardi and sitting down on the ping-pong table.

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

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

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

"Blah," she mumbled. "It was shortly after I came here to Newark that I met him. I was working as a psychic. He took me to a restaurant called the Dancing Drive-In. Oh, he seemed furry enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sarcastically.

She stared into her Bacardi. "His name's Christian Kim. He works at the antique store on 18th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in decks of cards."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Agnew gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a deck of cards in Newark 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 grinning at the disco when he sneaked in and started to chew. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to think about that naïve wimp," she sobbed.

He handed her a mop and she wiped her eyes fervently. He noticed her bodysuit looked multicolored. "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 carotid artery grimly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would stack my bottle of painkillers if I didn't flush," she replied. "I said he's a cunning rabbit. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cunning.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Kim?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Newark since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked accidentally, "did Mister Kim ever talk about someone named Rocket O'Brien?

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

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

She looked at him diligently. "I'm nobody's kitten," she remarked, "and I don't want to be in Fort Worth too long. I hope you can do something about Christian soon."

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

"I can proceed to Fort Worth as soon as I pack a Rubik's cube, a bracelet, and my peanut."

"You'd better take a padlock too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he persisted automatically.

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

She rose from her seat and pranced oddly out of the office. He stared furiously after her.

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