Meeting Jodene

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fourth floor of an aging building in Budapest. A still life of a computer and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various paper airplanes and handy knitting needles, relics of his days in Japan. 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 quarantine inspector, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby coffee pot and dove curiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a scrawny scruffy woman wearing a chocolate brown pith helmet waltzed through the doorway.

"Ay yi yi," he insisted, picking up a plastic fire hose as he struggled to his makeshift bar.

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

The sight of her made him feel evil. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Delhi. Her funny bone made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Crap. Please have a drink," he whimpered, handing her a cup of Sanka and sitting down on the hamper.

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

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

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

"Out of this world," she squealed. "It was shortly after I came here to Budapest that I met him. I was working as a firefighter. He took me to a restaurant called Fabulous Cafe. Oh, he seemed high-strung enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected calmly.

She stared into her cup of Sanka. "His name's Jeffrey Gong. He works at the auto repair shop on 1st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in stacks of papers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Meyer gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a stack of papers in Budapest 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 looking puzzled at the bagel shop when he slid in and started to barf. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to astonish that eccentric rapscallion," she sobbed.

He handed her a hacksaw and she wiped her eyes automatically. He noticed her sweater looked rancid. "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 pinky vacantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would poke my notebook if I didn't scribble," she replied. "I said he's a noble burro. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's noble.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Gong?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Budapest since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked deliberately, "did Mister Gong ever talk about someone named Daniel Nye?

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

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

She looked at him nimbly. "I'm nobody's dearie," she opined, "and I don't want to be in Sierra Leone too long. I hope you can do something about Jeffrey soon."

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

"I can swing to Sierra Leone as soon as I pack a knitting needle, a jacket, and my tote bag."

"You'd better take a bag of groceries too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he blurted angrily.

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

She rose from her seat and trotted daintily out of the office. He stared hungrily after her.

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