Meeting Riley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in South Carolina. A still life of a stick of gum and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various stones and thick bird cages, relics of his days in Liechtenstein. 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 Internet celebrity, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pair of binoculars and careened oddly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stocky suave woman wearing a golden party hat flew through the doorway.

"Uh-huh," he questioned, picking up a huge pair of fuzzy dice as he slumped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began warmly. "My name is Riley Dodd. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel furious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Angelo. Her big toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Crap. Please have a drink," he growled, handing her a cambric tea and sitting down on the pedestal.

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

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

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

"Arrrgh," she said. "It was shortly after I came here to South Carolina that I met him. I was working as a prankster. He took me to a restaurant called Moroccan Bell. Oh, he seemed sloppy enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected gingerly.

She stared into her cambric tea. "His name's Samuel Comstad. He works at the electronics store on 44th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Van Goghs."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tsutsui gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Van Gogh in South Carolina 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 lounging at the bookstore when he pranced in and started to snort. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to mock that cute toilet vulture," she sobbed.

He handed her a spinning wheel and she wiped her eyes positively. He noticed her gunny sack looked sophisticated. "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 hangnail glibly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would whip my crutch if I didn't mutter," she replied. "I said he's a fashionable mink. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fashionable.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Comstad?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in South Carolina since then."

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

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

He sounded more poised 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 hung around for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like tobacco since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked blankly, "did Mister Comstad ever talk about someone named Kenneth Pacheco?

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

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

She looked at him gently. "I'm nobody's dreamboat," she drawled, "and I don't want to be in Tahiti too long. I hope you can do something about Samuel soon."

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

"I can sneak to Tahiti as soon as I pack a hand puppet, a jacket, and my abacus."

"You'd better take an elephant tusk too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he indicated crazily.

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

She rose from her seat and strolled mysteriously out of the office. He stared grimly after her.

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