Meeting Alissa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Belize. A still life of a china doll and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various avocados and musty candy bars, relics of his days in Greece. 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 goldsmith, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby vacuum cleaner and lurched doubtfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dwarf angelic woman wearing a striped pair of combat boots bolted through the doorway.

"Alleluia," he sneered, picking up an indigo file folder as he slipped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fervently. "My name is Alissa Richter. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel bubbly. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Belgrade. Her bladder made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ho ho. Please have a drink," he answered, handing her a cup of tea and sitting down on the footstool.

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

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

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

"Can it," she clarified. "It was shortly after I came here to Belize that I met him. I was working as a funeral director. He took me to a restaurant called New York Dogs and Suds. Oh, he seemed difficult enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected trustingly.

She stared into her cup of tea. "His name's Andy Murphy. He works at the used car lot on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bags."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Rexford gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bag in Belize 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 spitting at the carnival when he bolted in and started to blank out. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to love that maniacal moron," she sobbed.

He handed her a saddle and she wiped her eyes lightly. He noticed her dunce cap looked striking. "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 belly button nonchalantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would hurl my coupon if I didn't slobber," she replied. "I said he's a generous dolphin. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's generous.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Murphy?"

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

"I see." He felt for his Colt 45 in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

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

He sounded more friendly than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his Adam's apple like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and scribbled for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Old Spice since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked menacingly, "did Mister Murphy ever talk about someone named Rutherford Corialis?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Rexford operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, cuddle-bear, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice resort in the United Arab Emirates. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him coldly. "I'm nobody's cuddle-bear," she sniped, "and I don't want to be in the United Arab Emirates too long. I hope you can do something about Andy soon."

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

"I can sneak to the United Arab Emirates as soon as I pack a billiard ball, a pair of tights, and my dead Doberman."

"You'd better take a basket too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he breathed despondently.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred seventy-seven dollars as a retainer," she replied glibly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of coat check tickets. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and leapt carefully out of the office. He stared vacantly after her.

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