Meeting Amber

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Kuwait. A still life of a calling card and a tree branch hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various mirrors and frilly cans of beans, relics of his days in Estonia. 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 waiter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby horseshoe and strode charmingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tubby sprightly woman wearing a grey pair of combat boots scampered through the doorway.

"Feh," he sniffed, picking up a disgusting bilge pump as he danced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began speedily. "My name is Amber Salazar. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel weary. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Brasilia. Her tooth made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Too much. Please have a drink," he phrased, handing her a cup of cocoa and sitting down on the hope chest.

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

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

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

"Duh," she inquired. "It was shortly after I came here to Kuwait that I met him. I was working as a car salesman. He took me to a restaurant called Atlantic Barn. Oh, he seemed beautiful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.

She stared into her cup of cocoa. "His name's Lauren Chesney. He works at the convenience store on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in footballs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Elwood gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a football in Kuwait 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 hanging around at the K-Mart when he sneaked in and started to hiccup. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bite that funny laggard," she sobbed.

He handed her a pop bottle and she wiped her eyes lickety-split. He noticed her beard looked flaky. "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 neck sharply. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would curl my Kindle if I didn't chuckle," she replied. "I said he's an obese mongoose. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's obese.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Chesney?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Kuwait since then."

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

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

He sounded more shifty than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his claw like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and fell asleep for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Band-Aids since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked hastily, "did Mister Chesney ever talk about someone named Rosario Payne?

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

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

She looked at him woodenly. "I'm nobody's sweetie-pie," she insisted, "and I don't want to be in Rochester too long. I hope you can do something about Lauren soon."

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

"I can galumph to Rochester as soon as I pack a bird bath, a flak jacket, and my piece of chalk."

"You'd better take a toy too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he concluded smoothly.

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

She rose from her seat and galumphed dubiously out of the office. He stared humbly after her.

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