Meeting Carina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Lebanon. A still life of a chamber pot and a rock hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various candy bars and ornate bags of groceries, relics of his days in New Guinea. 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 massage therapist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby soccer ball and traipsed suddenly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed blond woman wearing an indigo helmet jumped through the doorway.

"Tubular," he indicated, picking up a sleek toilet seat as he swaggered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hysterically. "My name is Carina Castro. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel lazy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Cape Town. Her toenail made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Gesundheit. Please have a drink," he declared, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the canopy bed.

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

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

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

"Nonsense," she emphasized. "It was shortly after I came here to Lebanon that I met him. I was working as a butler. He took me to a restaurant called the Farmer's Mess Hall. Oh, he seemed dark enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected stupidly.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Noah Fritz. He works at the craft store on 15th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fire hoses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Holland gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fire hose in Lebanon 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 dressing up at the swimming pool when he padded in and started to snarl. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to expose that calm rogue," she sobbed.

He handed her a spool of thread and she wiped her eyes elatedly. He noticed her fur coat looked flexible. "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 blissfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would boil my statue if I didn't vegetate," she replied. "I said he's an enchanting pheasant. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's enchanting.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Fritz?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Lebanon since then."

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

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

He sounded more atrocious than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his thumb 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 Chanel No. 5 since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked stupidly, "did Mister Fritz ever talk about someone named Siggy Henderson?

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

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

She looked at him majestically. "I'm nobody's punkin," she mumbled, "and I don't want to be in Tokyo too long. I hope you can do something about Noah soon."

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

"I can bound to Tokyo as soon as I pack a ticket, a pair of cowboy boots, and my umbrella."

"You'd better take a fish too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he yelped wildly.

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

She rose from her seat and sneaked hungrily out of the office. He stared carelessly after her.

Next Chapter