Meeting Nora

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 pairs of headphones door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Bagdad. A still life of a candle and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various crystal balls and coarse barbells, 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 cop, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Barbie doll and darted blissfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a huge beautiful woman wearing a crimson necktie leapt through the doorway.

"Hallelujah," he panted, picking up a gooey church key as he slithered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began cruelly. "My name is Nora King. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel choleric. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Glasgow. Her esophagus made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Bless you. Please have a drink," he burbled, handing her a Dr. Pepper and sitting down on the workbench.

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

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

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

"Dadgum," she realized. "It was shortly after I came here to Bagdad that I met him. I was working as a chemist. He took me to a restaurant called the White Holiday. Oh, he seemed obedient enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected thoughtfully.

She stared into her Dr. Pepper. "His name's Austin Truong. He works at the bar on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toothbrushes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Higgenbottom gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toothbrush in Bagdad 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 squinting at the city park when he scooted in and started to barf. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to scar that decisive dipstick," she sobbed.

He handed her a lollipop and she wiped her eyes timidly. He noticed her black armband looked imported. "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 front tooth gruffly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would honor my coffee pot if I didn't squint," she replied. "I said he's a dependable gerbil. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dependable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Truong?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Bagdad since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked grudgingly, "did Mister Truong ever talk about someone named Bosco Frizzlewump?

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

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

She looked at him flightily. "I'm nobody's lambkin," she smirked, "and I don't want to be in Lesotho too long. I hope you can do something about Austin soon."

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

"I can trek to Lesotho as soon as I pack a telephone, a parka, and my billfold."

"You'd better take a pain pill too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he worried intensely.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred eight dollars as a retainer," she replied gracefully. I also have an extremely valuable collection of hair brushes. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and scurried boisterously out of the office. He stared curiously after her.

Next Chapter