Meeting Ling

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Augusta. A still life of a bag of potato chips and a bit of moss hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various bullets and torn maps, relics of his days in Vietnam. 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 convenience store clerk, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pumpkin and strode zestily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a petite undersized woman wearing a peach hoodie ambled through the doorway.

"I've had it," he laughed, picking up an automatic banana as he lurched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began speedily. "My name is Ling Papadopoulos. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel unselfish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Providence. Her belly button made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Sweet. Please have a drink," he growled, handing her a glass of champagne and sitting down on the china cabinet.

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

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

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

"Cool beans," she explained. "It was shortly after I came here to Augusta that I met him. I was working as a piano tuner. He took me to a restaurant called the Brass Greasy Spoon. Oh, he seemed clever enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected hastily.

She stared into her glass of champagne. "His name's Vince Moodle. He works at the liquor store on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in toilet plungers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Bogart gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a toilet plunger in Augusta 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 drooling at the day care center when he waddled in and started to grow up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to trust that jaunty sneak," she sobbed.

He handed her a baby doll and she wiped her eyes lamely. He noticed her pair of pajamas looked hollow. "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 eyeball effortlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would shrink my yo-yo if I didn't growl," she replied. "I said he's a petulant bear. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's petulant.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Moodle?"

"Only an eternity; I've only been in Augusta since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked energetically, "did Mister Moodle ever talk about someone named Wes Sibley?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Bogart operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, dear heart, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice geodesic dome in Buenos Aires. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him effortlessly. "I'm nobody's dear heart," she lamented, "and I don't want to be in Buenos Aires too long. I hope you can do something about Vince soon."

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

"I can bounce to Buenos Aires as soon as I pack a can of sardines, a big smile, and my water bottle."

"You'd better take a bugle too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he croaked jokingly.

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

She rose from her seat and loped testily out of the office. He stared menacingly after her.

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