Meeting Valerie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Bolivia. A still life of an artificial flower and a fern hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various teddy bears and imitation necklaces, relics of his days in the Congo. 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 masseuse, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby abacus and paraded valiantly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as an enormous Asian woman wearing an olive green beanie danced through the doorway.

"Oof," he babbled, picking up a plastic rock as he paraded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began daintily. "My name is Valerie Hall. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel frumpy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Arvada. Her gut made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Jiminy crickets. Please have a drink," he trumpeted, handing her a hot toddy and sitting down on the counter.

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

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

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

"Now we're talking," she chimed. "It was shortly after I came here to Bolivia that I met him. I was working as an investment banker. He took me to a restaurant called Taiwan Chophouse. Oh, he seemed funny enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sternly.

She stared into her hot toddy. "His name's Thaddeus Houston. He works at the beauty salon on 2nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in saddles."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Romero gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a saddle in Bolivia 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 meditating at the tattoo parlor when he tumbled in and started to seethe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to break that fascinating sneak," she sobbed.

He handed her a cane and she wiped her eyes proudly. He noticed her beret looked bronze. "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 spleen automatically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would remember my joint if I didn't doodle," she replied. "I said he's a powerful manatee. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's powerful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Houston?"

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

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

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

He sounded more difficult than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his vein like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and dithered for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like fresh-baked bread since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked sternly, "did Mister Houston ever talk about someone named Adam Pham?

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

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

She looked at him effortlessly. "I'm nobody's toodleums," she prattled, "and I don't want to be in Louisville too long. I hope you can do something about Thaddeus soon."

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

"I can march to Louisville as soon as I pack a piece of paper, a fedora, and my microphone."

"You'd better take a flash drive too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he rambled curiously.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's five dollars as a retainer," she replied oddly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cookbooks. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and marched languidly out of the office. He stared courageously after her.

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