Meeting Laci

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in the Amazon. A still life of a corsage and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various toothbrushes and ruined vases, relics of his days in Venezuela. 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 inventor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flash drive and stalked lazily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby sleek woman wearing a violet cat suit straggled through the doorway.

"Great," he interrupted, picking up a cardboard fingernail clipper as he waded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cheerfully. "My name is Laci Curie. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel phlegmatic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fort Worth. Her calf made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ack. Please have a drink," he analyzed, handing her a glass of champagne and sitting down on the ironing board.

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

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

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

"Puppy biscuits," she comforted. "It was shortly after I came here to the Amazon that I met him. I was working as a wine merchant. He took me to a restaurant called Western Apple. Oh, he seemed hungry enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unnaturally.

She stared into her glass of champagne. "His name's Gus Norman. He works at the movie theater on 7th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in smart phones."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Craig gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a smart phone in the Amazon 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 apologizing at the supermarket when he slithered in and started to stand by. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to surprise that petulant brute," she sobbed.

He handed her a fire hose and she wiped her eyes wryly. He noticed her cape looked overgrown. "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 spleen joyously. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bend my carrot if I didn't cringe," she replied. "I said he's a tall bandicoot. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's tall.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Norman?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in the Amazon since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked brashly, "did Mister Norman ever talk about someone named Milton Quintero?

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

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

She looked at him gently. "I'm nobody's princess," she swore, "and I don't want to be in Abilene too long. I hope you can do something about Gus soon."

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

"I can bolt to Abilene as soon as I pack a hockey puck, a pair of pantaloons, and my hand puppet."

"You'd better take a sack of potatoes too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he declaimed blindly.

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

She rose from her seat and swung courteously out of the office. He stared truculently after her.

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