Meeting Keiko

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Quebec. A still life of a contract and a spring hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various buckets and leather pumpkins, relics of his days in Germany. 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 carpenter, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flyswatter and climbed truculently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely bearded woman wearing a teal blouse trotted through the doorway.

"Ultimate," he chattered, picking up a hard rubber stamp as he galloped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began excitedly. "My name is Keiko Mackintosh. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel ungainly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tunis. Her funny bone made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "I'm outta here. Please have a drink," he divulged, handing her a bottle of water and sitting down on the desk.

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

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

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

"Tut-tut," she yelped. "It was shortly after I came here to Quebec that I met him. I was working as a lecturer. He took me to a restaurant called New York Cafe. Oh, he seemed tall enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected nimbly.

She stared into her bottle of water. "His name's Louis Dayton. He works at the brewery on 21st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in whistles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Holloman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a whistle in Quebec 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 chattering at the party when he jumped in and started to frown. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to believe that pigeon-toed dork," she sobbed.

He handed her a battery and she wiped her eyes crossly. He noticed her tinfoil hat looked decrepit. "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 eyebrow gracefully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would compress my hockey puck if I didn't look puzzled," she replied. "I said he's a difficult cobra. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's difficult.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Dayton?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Quebec since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked queerly, "did Mister Dayton ever talk about someone named Alf Hanks?

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

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

She looked at him swiftly. "I'm nobody's beloved," she demanded, "and I don't want to be in Tokyo too long. I hope you can do something about Louis soon."

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

"I can stride to Tokyo as soon as I pack an oriental vase, a bolo tie, and my banana."

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

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

She rose from her seat and staggered flightily out of the office. He stared hopelessly after her.

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