Meeting Alison

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Lincoln. A still life of a chamber pot and a piece of bark hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cans of soup and charming pepper grinders, relics of his days in Cambodia. 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 politician, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby magazine and leapt bravely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby suave woman wearing a violet bulletproof vest padded through the doorway.

"Good grief," he questioned, picking up a damp pair of scissors as he pranced to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began uneasily. "My name is Alison Tran. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel proud. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Hong Kong. Her thumb made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Um. Please have a drink," he gabbed, handing her a shot of whiskey and sitting down on the floor.

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

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

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

"Yowsers," she belched. "It was shortly after I came here to Lincoln that I met him. I was working as a bullfighter. He took me to a restaurant called Eastern Barn. Oh, he seemed perky enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected anxiously.

She stared into her shot of whiskey. "His name's Scott Blevins. He works at the bowling alley on 45th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in darts."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the McCarthy gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dart in Lincoln 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 whirling at the spelling bee when he went in and started to cough. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to overlook that resolute egomaniac," she sobbed.

He handed her a fossil and she wiped her eyes intensely. He noticed her jacket looked immense. "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 brain queerly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would prepare my hair dryer if I didn't carry on," she replied. "I said he's a difficult colt. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's difficult.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Blevins?"

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

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

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

He sounded more suave 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 leered for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like cigarette smoke since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked timidly, "did Mister Blevins ever talk about someone named Erwin Jacobs?

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

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

She looked at him noisily. "I'm nobody's sweet," she articulated, "and I don't want to be in Bucharest too long. I hope you can do something about Scott soon."

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

"I can sally forth to Bucharest as soon as I pack a coupon, a tie, and my lemon."

"You'd better take a Big Gulp too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he begged craftily.

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

She rose from her seat and inched solemnly out of the office. He stared silently after her.

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