Meeting Kayla

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Brazil. A still life of an arrowhead and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various mops and abnormal pairs of headphones, relics of his days in Luxembourg. 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 math teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of fuzzy dice and careened tearfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt emaciated woman wearing a fuchsia diamond necklace struggled through the doorway.

"Achoo," he urged, picking up an immense iPad as he crawled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began diligently. "My name is Kayla Benton. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel athletic. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Singapore. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "My my. Please have a drink," he remarked, handing her a Mountain Dew and sitting down on the end table.

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

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

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

"Woops," she comforted. "It was shortly after I came here to Brazil that I met him. I was working as a journalist. He took me to a restaurant called the Hidden Platter. Oh, he seemed blubbery enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected needlessly.

She stared into her Mountain Dew. "His name's Mac Berry. He works at the deli on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in remote controls."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Talley gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a remote control in Brazil 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 treading water at the miniature golf course when he struggled in and started to whistle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to step on that grizzled barbarian," she sobbed.

He handed her a muffin and she wiped her eyes energetically. He noticed her pair of jackboots looked rancid. "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 claw busily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pound my soccer ball if I didn't digest," she replied. "I said he's a brassy snipe. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's brassy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Berry?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Brazil since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked briskly, "did Mister Berry ever talk about someone named Tony Nussbaum?

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

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

She looked at him lickety-split. "I'm nobody's twinkie," she simpered, "and I don't want to be in Illinois too long. I hope you can do something about Mac soon."

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

"I can zoom to Illinois as soon as I pack an egg shell, a cloak, and my tube of glue."

"You'd better take an accordion too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yelped offhandedly.

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

She rose from her seat and proceeded carefully out of the office. He stared properly after her.

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