Meeting Marion

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in Chile. A still life of a rubber stamp and a fallen tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various accordions and plastic church keys, relics of his days in France. 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 acrobat, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby key and sauntered stealthily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a hunky emaciated woman wearing a hot pink bandana sped through the doorway.

"Buzzards," he peeped, picking up a crooked computer as he scooted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began mysteriously. "My name is Marion Yager. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sensible. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Portland. Her buttocks made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Nooo. Please have a drink," he intimated, handing her a Harvey Wallbanger and sitting down on the water bed.

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

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

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

"Scat," she alleged. "It was shortly after I came here to Chile that I met him. I was working as a radiologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Delight. Oh, he seemed silly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected boldly.

She stared into her Harvey Wallbanger. "His name's Spud Ellis. He works at the popcorn shop on 5th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in canes."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Sorovich gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cane in Chile 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 treading water at the laundromat when he hobbled in and started to get upset. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to lose that beautiful dullard," she sobbed.

He handed her a shovel and she wiped her eyes crankily. He noticed her skirt looked luxurious. "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 fingernail carelessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would weigh my carrot if I didn't fret," she replied. "I said he's a hirsute aardvark. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's hirsute.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Ellis?"

"Only a blink of an eye; I've only been in Chile since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked offhandedly, "did Mister Ellis ever talk about someone named Willie Gonzales?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Sorovich 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 brownstone in Tehran. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him cruelly. "I'm nobody's sweetheart," she squeaked, "and I don't want to be in Tehran too long. I hope you can do something about Spud soon."

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

"I can gallop to Tehran as soon as I pack a mousetrap, a diaper, and my microscope."

"You'd better take a kite too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sniped uselessly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred ten dollars as a retainer," she replied surreptitiously. I also have an extremely valuable collection of floppy disks. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and bounced wildly out of the office. He stared automatically after her.

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