Meeting Faye

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Cyprus. A still life of a roll of duct tape and a badger hole hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various pairs of dice and fancy fingernail clippers, relics of his days in Rwanda. 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 peanut vendor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby whistle and flew arrogantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a tall Asian woman wearing an orange pair of knickerbockers leapt through the doorway.

"Teehee," he voiced, picking up a rigid cardboard box as he loped to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel shifty. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Brownsville. Her hair made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Piffle. Please have a drink," he articulated, handing her a Tom and Jerry and sitting down on the windowsill.

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

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

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

"Gotta love it," she judged. "It was shortly after I came here to Cyprus that I met him. I was working as a tennis player. He took me to a restaurant called Main Street Burger Joint. Oh, he seemed fiendish enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected testily.

She stared into her Tom and Jerry. "His name's Jude Ling. He works at the antique store on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in playing cards."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Proctor gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a playing card in Cyprus 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 showing up at the taco shop when he flounced in and started to dress up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to kiss that gallant scalawag," she sobbed.

He handed her a cracker and she wiped her eyes mysteriously. He noticed her black belt looked imitation. "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 nose dolefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prod my model airplane if I didn't play solitaire," she replied. "I said he's an ambitious bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's ambitious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ling?"

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

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

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

He sounded more self-confident than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his midriff like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and ruminated for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like chicken soup since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked awkwardly, "did Mister Ling ever talk about someone named André Gray?

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

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

She looked at him sweetly. "I'm nobody's kitten," she bragged, "and I don't want to be in Charleston too long. I hope you can do something about Jude soon."

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

"I can straggle to Charleston as soon as I pack a cream puff, a pair of glasses, and my microphone."

"You'd better take a washrag too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he implored elatedly.

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

She rose from her seat and bolted unabashedly out of the office. He stared perkily after her.

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