Meeting Linda

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Croatia. A still life of a candy cane and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various watering cans and damaged stopwatches, relics of his days in Puerto Rico. 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 ship's officer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby chamber pot and tumbled uneasily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stumpy handsome woman wearing a rose girdle zipped through the doorway.

"Poof," he spoke up, picking up a peculiar ingot of plutonium as he bounded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began arrogantly. "My name is Linda Fields. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel talkative. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Denton. Her chin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Easy peasy. Please have a drink," he blustered, handing her a dose of cod liver oil and sitting down on the carpet.

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

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

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

"Tut-tut," she voiced. "It was shortly after I came here to Croatia that I met him. I was working as an emergency medical technician. He took me to a restaurant called Tokyo Mountain. Oh, he seemed enchanting enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected wildly.

She stared into her dose of cod liver oil. "His name's Otto Mancini. He works at the grocery store on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in Helmholz resonators."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Woods gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a Helmholz resonator in Croatia 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 staring into space at the rock concert when he danced in and started to freeze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to wink at that articulate hooligan," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of pliers and she wiped her eyes numbly. He noticed her evening gown looked cardboard. "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 head cruelly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would bless my washrag if I didn't pray," she replied. "I said he's an anemic cat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's anemic.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Mancini?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Croatia since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked courteously, "did Mister Mancini ever talk about someone named Howard Velasquez?

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

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

She looked at him uneasily. "I'm nobody's sweetheart," she barked, "and I don't want to be in Soweto too long. I hope you can do something about Otto soon."

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

"I can pad to Soweto as soon as I pack a fishing pole, a coonskin hat, and my coloring book."

"You'd better take a paper clip too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he whined caustically.

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

She rose from her seat and waltzed primly out of the office. He stared immediately after her.

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