Meeting Rose

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Stockton. A still life of a comic book and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various coloring books and original paper bags, relics of his days in Ecuador. 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 organic farmer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby spool of thread and stormed nervously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lithe cadaverous woman wearing a sparkly smartwatch zoomed through the doorway.

"Loopers," he repeated, picking up a wooden comic book as he sailed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began coldly. "My name is Rose Cornish. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel self-assured. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Chesapeake. Her hangnail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Beshrew me. Please have a drink," he imitated, handing her a root beer float and sitting down on the coat rack.

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

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

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

"OMG," she responded. "It was shortly after I came here to Stockton that I met him. I was working as a news reporter. He took me to a restaurant called Lee's Plate. Oh, he seemed sociable enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected unexpectedly.

She stared into her root beer float. "His name's Hugh Champion. He works at the electronics store on 47th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in ping-pong paddles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Titus gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a ping-pong paddle in Stockton 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 turning blue at the library when he crawled in and started to hiccup. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bury that tired scalawag," she sobbed.

He handed her a coin and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her trench coat looked used. "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 larynx fervently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would break my key ring if I didn't gaze," she replied. "I said he's a young jellyfish. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's young.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Champion?"

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

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked narrowly, "did Mister Champion ever talk about someone named Abe Park?

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

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

She looked at him jokingly. "I'm nobody's dovey-poo," she phrased, "and I don't want to be in Rhode Island too long. I hope you can do something about Hugh soon."

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

"I can climb to Rhode Island as soon as I pack a dish, a suit of armor, and my Happy Meal."

"You'd better take a pair of headphones too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chuckled tearfully.

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

She rose from her seat and went offhandedly out of the office. He stared busily after her.

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