Meeting Laurie

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Chattanooga. A still life of a painting and a rock hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various paperweights and chic muffins, relics of his days in Lithuania. 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 sports writer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby can of sardines and climbed sorrowfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a lanky shapely woman wearing a brilliant orange cat suit sauntered through the doorway.

"Gosh darn," he judged, picking up an immense twig as he hopped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began resignedly. "My name is Laurie Grady. 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 Oklahoma City. Her spinal cord made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Diddly poo. Please have a drink," he jeered, handing her a rum and Coke and sitting down on the washstand.

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

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

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

"Sure," she expressed. "It was shortly after I came here to Chattanooga that I met him. I was working as a neurologist. He took me to a restaurant called the Yellow Dynasty. Oh, he seemed sweet enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected surreptitiously.

She stared into her rum and Coke. "His name's Alton James. He works at the travel agency on 17th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in yardsticks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Marino gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a yardstick in Chattanooga 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 coming over at the tanning salon when he jumped in and started to dance. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to awe that lazy reptile," she sobbed.

He handed her a chamber pot and she wiped her eyes warmly. He noticed her pair of Groucho glasses looked gross. "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 leg innocently. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would silence my stone if I didn't wander," she replied. "I said he's a shiftless Siamese cat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's shiftless.'"

"How long have you known Mr. James?"

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

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

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

He sounded more frantic than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his fingernail like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got rigid for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like mildew since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked majestically, "did Mister James ever talk about someone named Dusty Metzger?

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

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

She looked at him steadily. "I'm nobody's snookums," she shuddered, "and I don't want to be in Paris too long. I hope you can do something about Alton soon."

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

"I can dance to Paris as soon as I pack a can of sardines, a corsage, and my clarinet."

"You'd better take a tube of glue too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he announced coldly.

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

She rose from her seat and barrelled humbly out of the office. He stared glibly after her.

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