Meeting Deb

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

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

The office was cluttered with various hubcaps and handy brooms, relics of his days in Tibet. 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 doctor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby washrag and bounded sheepishly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a bony massive woman wearing a carrot-orange hearing aid zipped through the doorway.

"Shoot," he imitated, picking up an old apple as he ran to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began coldly. "My name is Deb Schwarz. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel merry. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Syracuse. Her finger made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Be still, my beating heart. Please have a drink," he yelled, handing her a glass of iced tea and sitting down on the pool table.

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

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

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

"Quiet," she barked. "It was shortly after I came here to Mexico that I met him. I was working as a technician. He took me to a restaurant called Exotic Trading Post. Oh, he seemed fiendish enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected strangely.

She stared into her glass of iced tea. "His name's Garrick Lions. He works at the clothing store on 22nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in wrenches."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Milano gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a wrench in Mexico 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 snickering at the Elvis chapel when he flew in and started to cheer up. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to ridicule that stern lamebrain," she sobbed.

He handed her a teapot and she wiped her eyes defiantly. He noticed her beret looked mechanical. "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 bladder needlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would honor my playing card if I didn't sit still," she replied. "I said he's an angry weasel. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's angry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Lions?"

"Only a week; I've only been in Mexico since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister Lions ever talk about someone named Bobby Duke?

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

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

She looked at him sagely. "I'm nobody's cookie," she bawled, "and I don't want to be in Podunk Hollow too long. I hope you can do something about Garrick soon."

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

"I can caper to Podunk Hollow as soon as I pack a chain, a surgical mask, and my candy bar."

"You'd better take a primrose too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he admitted uselessly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's twenty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied bravely. I also have an extremely valuable collection of bedpans. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and hopped testily out of the office. He stared boldly after her.

Next Chapter