Meeting Carina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Algiers. A still life of a flower and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various muffins and chic fishing poles, relics of his days in Egypt. 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 cellist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby orange and blundered violently toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a mammoth lean woman wearing a violet mortarboard bolted through the doorway.

"Tarnation," he quavered, picking up a gaudy bullet as he zoomed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began deliberately. "My name is Carina Salinger. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel refined. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lima. Her stomach made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Cool beans. Please have a drink," he croaked, handing her a glass of papaya juice and sitting down on the casket.

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

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

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

"Ten-four," she responded. "It was shortly after I came here to Algiers that I met him. I was working as a vacuum cleaner salesman. He took me to a restaurant called the Red River. Oh, he seemed frantic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected perkily.

She stared into her glass of papaya juice. "His name's Sean Young. He works at the auto repair shop on 23rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of glue."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Ruiz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of glue in Algiers 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 quivering at the Seven-Eleven when he traipsed in and started to chortle. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to speak to that sleek goon," she sobbed.

He handed her a Bible and she wiped her eyes dolorously. He noticed her pair of tights looked used. "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 palm tensely. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would seal my can of shaving cream if I didn't dream," she replied. "I said he's a sloppy antelope. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sloppy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Young?"

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

"I see." He felt for his Colt 45 in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

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

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

"Tell me," he asked roughly, "did Mister Young ever talk about someone named Bix Champion?

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

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

She looked at him positively. "I'm nobody's pumpkin," she avowed, "and I don't want to be in Sapporo too long. I hope you can do something about Sean soon."

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

"I can sashay to Sapporo as soon as I pack a doily, a pair of cowboy boots, and my balloon."

"You'd better take a mushroom too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he purred truculently.

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

She rose from her seat and darted coolly out of the office. He stared lickety-split after her.

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