Meeting Georgina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in St. Petersburg. A still life of a boomerang and a leaf hung crookedly on his wall. The office was adorned with various candy bars and aromatic joints, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 peanut vendor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby cookie and lumbered tenderly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a well-formed albino woman wearing a white class ring slithered through the doorway.

"Is that a fact," he mumbled, picking up an autographed banana as he clambered to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began furiously. "My name is Georgina Dion. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sassy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in San Diego. Her bicep made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Pow. Please have a drink," he reasoned, handing her a Mojito and sitting down on the sofa.

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

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

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

"Bilge," she announced. "It was shortly after I came here to St. Petersburg that I met him. I was working as a huckster. He took me to a restaurant called Mountain Feast. Oh, he seemed selfish enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ignobly.

She stared into her Mojito. "His name's Derek Wibbles. He works at the office supply store on 29th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in bouquets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hudson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a bouquet in St. Petersburg 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 suffering at the church when he tiptoed in and started to yawn. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to deceive that depraved twerp," she sobbed.

He handed her a carrot and she wiped her eyes ferociously. He noticed her tinfoil hat looked worn. "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 truculently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would distort my yo-yo if I didn't squeak," she replied. "I said he's a fearful poodle. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's fearful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Wibbles?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in St. Petersburg since then."

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

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

He sounded more serious than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his lip like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and played solitaire 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 haughtily, "did Mister Wibbles ever talk about someone named Henry Warren?

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

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

She looked at him quietly. "I'm nobody's doodlebug," she screamed, "and I don't want to be in Athens too long. I hope you can do something about Derek soon."

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

"I can parade to Athens as soon as I pack a cream puff, a jumpsuit, and my gun."

"You'd better take a feather too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he moaned dolorously.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred seventy-five dollars as a retainer," she replied tensely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of rolls of toilet paper. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and whirled gently out of the office. He stared lovingly after her.

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