Meeting June

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Vancouver. A still life of a fingernail clipper and a tree stump hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various coconuts and fresh Frisbees, relics of his days in Slovakia. 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 burglar, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby paper airplane and bolted grandly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a plump tattooed woman wearing an amber pair of earmuffs set out through the doorway.

"Golly," he hollered, picking up a fabulous amulet as he cantered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began warily. "My name is June Arnold. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel noxious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Karachi. Her buttocks made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Tut-tut. Please have a drink," he decided, handing her a cup of hot chocolate and sitting down on the dining table.

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

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

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

"Yes," she indicated. "It was shortly after I came here to Vancouver that I met him. I was working as a bank robber. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Shoe. Oh, he seemed haughty enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected warmly.

She stared into her cup of hot chocolate. "His name's Brandon David. He works at the cigar store on 46th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in skulls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Durand gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a skull in Vancouver 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 kneeling at the library when he lurched in and started to step aside. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to quote that prickly hog," she sobbed.

He handed her a spool of thread and she wiped her eyes hopelessly. He noticed her scarf looked stolen. "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 forehead lovingly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pinch my stamp if I didn't wince," she replied. "I said he's a careful deer. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's careful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. David?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister David ever talk about someone named Luke Ortega?

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

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

She looked at him repeatedly. "I'm nobody's dearest," she fumed, "and I don't want to be in Lubbock too long. I hope you can do something about Brandon soon."

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

"I can careen to Lubbock as soon as I pack a Barbie doll, a hair net, and my bird bath."

"You'd better take a magnet too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he informed diligently.

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

She rose from her seat and swung lazily out of the office. He stared crankily after her.

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