Meeting Ginger

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Madagascar. A still life of a tote bag and a spider web hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various corks and smumpy pairs of fuzzy dice, relics of his days in Cambodia. 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 quarantine inspector, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby African violet and barrelled needlessly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a thin dinky woman wearing a navy blue gorilla suit loped through the doorway.

"Hold your horses," he suggested, picking up a primitive map as he proceeded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began hungrily. "My name is Ginger McDermott. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel vivacious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lancaster. Her eyelash made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Aaack. Please have a drink," he articulated, handing her a fruit smoothie and sitting down on the pool table.

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

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

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

"You don't say," she disputed. "It was shortly after I came here to Madagascar that I met him. I was working as a high school teacher. He took me to a restaurant called the Yummy Cornucopia. Oh, he seemed wicked enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected joyously.

She stared into her fruit smoothie. "His name's Jacob Xi. He works at the pizza joint on 20th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bilge pumps."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Wilhelm gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bilge pump in Madagascar 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 primping at the library when he sailed in and started to cringe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to charm that childish blatherskite," she sobbed.

He handed her a pair of scissors and she wiped her eyes again. He noticed her wig 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 knuckle arrogantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pick my dish if I didn't wobble," she replied. "I said he's a carefree frog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's carefree.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Xi?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Madagascar since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked charmingly, "did Mister Xi ever talk about someone named Arthur Shelby?

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

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

She looked at him narrowly. "I'm nobody's kitten," she reasoned, "and I don't want to be in Reno too long. I hope you can do something about Jacob soon."

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

"I can sprint to Reno as soon as I pack a key, a blouse, and my cactus plant."

"You'd better take a contract too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he agreed dreamily.

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

She rose from her seat and jumped lickety-split out of the office. He stared energetically after her.

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