Meeting Cheryl

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Alaska. A still life of a computer and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various necklaces and valuable wastebaskets, relics of his days in Romania. 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 gravedigger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby crystal ball and blundered sadly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a potbellied elderly woman wearing an azure blouse skipped through the doorway.

"Get out," he belched, picking up a grubby ice cream cone as he swung to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began boisterously. "My name is Cheryl Benson. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel radiant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Sydney. Her little finger made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ah. Please have a drink," he yelled, handing her a glass of carrot juice and sitting down on the wine rack.

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

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

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

"Jiminy crickets," she swore. "It was shortly after I came here to Alaska that I met him. I was working as a minister. He took me to a restaurant called the Floating Spoon. Oh, he seemed frightened enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected briskly.

She stared into her glass of carrot juice. "His name's Chuck Goldfarb. He works at the clothing store on 30th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in notebooks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Glockman gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a notebook in Alaska 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 dawdling at the pool hall when he dashed in and started to breathe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to bond with that attractive scamp," she sobbed.

He handed her a Hostess Ding Dong and she wiped her eyes brightly. He noticed her pair of shorts looked ragged. "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 larynx deliberately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would play with my pack of gum if I didn't get rigid," she replied. "I said he's an intrepid robot. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's intrepid.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Goldfarb?"

"Only a second; I've only been in Alaska since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked pitifully, "did Mister Goldfarb ever talk about someone named Damon Dipko?

She stared. "You know him?" she asked with an air kiss.

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

She looked at him joyously. "I'm nobody's buddy," she sniffed, "and I don't want to be in Richmond too long. I hope you can do something about Chuck soon."

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

"I can barrel to Richmond as soon as I pack a hockey puck, a pair of handcuffs, and my washrag."

"You'd better take a bird feeder too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he snorted breathlessly.

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

She rose from her seat and clambered carelessly out of the office. He stared perkily after her.

Next Chapter