Meeting Julie
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought charmingly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling stones door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Abilene. A still life of a bucket and a mushroom hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various pieces of chalk and petite billiard balls, relics of his days in the Sandwich Islands. 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 principal, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby flag and paraded joyously toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a cadaverous pretty woman wearing a teal balaclava tramped through the doorway.
"Shazam," he commented, picking up a stolen stick as he jumped to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began glumly. "My name is Julie Kemp. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel rugged. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Victoria. Her pinky made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Duh. Please have a drink," he shrieked, handing her a bottle of Gatorade and sitting down on the cash register.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she pointed out, glancing at the pair of boxing gloves he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied grimly.
"W00t," she shouted. "It was shortly after I came here to Abilene that I met him. I was working as an interior designer. He took me to a restaurant called Fireside Oven. Oh, he seemed sleek enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected suspiciously.
She stared into her bottle of Gatorade. "His name's Quinn Corona. He works at the video arcade on 4th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in church keys."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Diaz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a church key in Abilene 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 blinking at the taco shop when he strolled in and started to get angry. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to have a talk with that tense weasel," she sobbed.
He handed her a piece of paper and she wiped her eyes threateningly. He noticed her scarf looked damp. "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 blissfully. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would remember my artificial flower if I didn't calculate," she replied. "I said he's a pesky toad. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's pesky.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Corona?"
"Only a week; I've only been in Abilene since then."
"I see." He felt for his torpedo in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Quinn Corona is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more creepy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his chest like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and vomited for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a stagnant pond since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked crossly, "did Mister Corona ever talk about someone named Garth Dupont?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a crow.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Diaz operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, bunny, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice ranch house in Mexico City. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him doubtfully. "I'm nobody's bunny," she guessed, "and I don't want to be in Mexico City too long. I hope you can do something about Quinn soon."
"I'll do my best, dearie. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can scoot to Mexico City as soon as I pack a fish bowl, a visor, and my pearl."
"You'd better take a paperweight too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he griped dolefully.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirty dollars as a retainer," she replied courageously. I also have an extremely valuable collection of magnets. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and flew uneasily out of the office. He stared threateningly after her.
Next Chapter