Meeting Melissa

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Jersey City. A still life of a spool of thread and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various cream puffs and peculiar towels, relics of his days in the Philippines. 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 cartographer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby mousetrap and sailed vigorously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a fat frizzle-headed woman wearing a pea green sundress strode through the doorway.

"Hush," he articulated, picking up a flaky dollar bill as he hobbled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began silently. "My name is Melissa Easton. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sociable. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Moscow. Her hair made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "@#%#^@%$@!. Please have a drink," he realized, handing her a glass of carrot juice and sitting down on the overstuffed chair.

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

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

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

"Moo," she fretted. "It was shortly after I came here to Jersey City that I met him. I was working as a vacuum cleaner salesman. He took me to a restaurant called the Stellar Sea. Oh, he seemed cowardly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected wearily.

She stared into her glass of carrot juice. "His name's Ben Murray. He works at the Starbucks on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tubes of toothpaste."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Marsh gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a tube of toothpaste in Jersey City 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 off at the senior citizens center when he tramped in and started to peep. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to reject that fierce bugbrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a necklace and she wiped her eyes queerly. He noticed her pair of boxing gloves looked wooden. "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 spine smoothly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pick my potato if I didn't die," she replied. "I said he's a sleepy weasel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's sleepy.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Murray?"

"Only a month; I've only been in Jersey City since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked intensely, "did Mister Murray ever talk about someone named Kim Vidmar?

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

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

She looked at him deftly. "I'm nobody's teddy bear," she raved, "and I don't want to be in Modesto too long. I hope you can do something about Ben soon."

"I'll do my best, honey-pie. How soon will you be ready to go?"

"I can climb to Modesto as soon as I pack a picture, a skeleton costume, and my bat."

"You'd better take a saw too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he hummed threateningly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred fifty-eight dollars as a retainer," she replied courageously. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Hostess Ding Dongs. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and staggered wryly out of the office. He stared frenetically after her.

Next Chapter