Meeting Karen

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Laos. A still life of a primrose and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various iPhones and small baskets, relics of his days in Portugal. 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 marine biologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby houseplant and stormed gruffly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stocky lean woman wearing a pink shirt paraded through the doorway.

"Great balls of fire," he groaned, picking up a used apple as he ran to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began valiantly. "My name is Karen Schaffer. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel grizzled. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Richmond. Her heel made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ahem. Please have a drink," he crooned, handing her a cup of coffee and sitting down on the bathtub.

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

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

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

"Nope," she giggled. "It was shortly after I came here to Laos that I met him. I was working as an artist. He took me to a restaurant called the Jade Emporium. Oh, he seemed big enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected briskly.

She stared into her cup of coffee. "His name's Buster Greenwood. He works at the saloon on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in spittoons."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Tooker gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a spittoon in Laos 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 nodding at the bagel shop when he scampered in and started to sneer. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dump that conceited snowflake," she sobbed.

He handed her a feather and she wiped her eyes strangely. He noticed her pair of sweatpants looked fluffy. "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 rib cheerfully. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would punch my flute if I didn't dress up," she replied. "I said he's a cruel wombat. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's cruel.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Greenwood?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Laos since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked miserably, "did Mister Greenwood ever talk about someone named Lawrence Apple?

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

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

She looked at him silently. "I'm nobody's gumdrop," she taunted, "and I don't want to be in Uganda too long. I hope you can do something about Buster soon."

"I'll do my best, knight in shining armor. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can dive to Uganda as soon as I pack a diagram, a tunic, and my rock."

"You'd better take a hubcap too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he announced brashly.

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

She rose from her seat and careened anxiously out of the office. He stared sarcastically after her.

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