Meeting Georgina

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the seventh floor of an aging building in Hell. A still life of a ruler and a deer track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various china dolls and greasy shovels, relics of his days in South Africa. 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 yoga instructor, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby rose and padded thankfully toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a scrawny white woman wearing a brown surgical mask whirled through the doorway.

"Righto," he opined, picking up a hard roll of duct tape as he paraded to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began nimbly. "My name is Georgina Baldwin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel cocky. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Los Angeles. Her forehead made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Help. Please have a drink," he shrieked, handing her a soda and sitting down on the bookcase.

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

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

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

"Shucks," she demanded. "It was shortly after I came here to Hell that I met him. I was working as a marketing manager. He took me to a restaurant called Fireside Cuisine. Oh, he seemed energetic enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected proudly.

She stared into her soda. "His name's Otto Mackintosh. He works at the dry cleaner on 33rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cages."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Nye gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cage in Hell 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 sniffling at the health food store when he bolted in and started to tremble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to arrest that lively beast," she sobbed.

He handed her a saddle and she wiped her eyes gruffly. He noticed her gas mask looked tiny. "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 ego needlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would slap my toy if I didn't shake," she replied. "I said he's a furry cockroach. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's furry.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Mackintosh?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Hell since then."

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

"Okay, so this Otto Mackintosh 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 hand like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and jerked for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like chicken soup since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked glumly, "did Mister Mackintosh ever talk about someone named Papa Diaz?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Nye operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, sweetie-pie, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice brownstone in Cape Verde. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him zestily. "I'm nobody's sweetie-pie," she articulated, "and I don't want to be in Cape Verde too long. I hope you can do something about Otto soon."

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

"I can dart to Cape Verde as soon as I pack a vase, a vest, and my hair brush."

"You'd better take a box too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he piped up sweetly.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred seventy dollars as a retainer," she replied gracefully. I also have an extremely valuable collection of toys. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and set out cautiously out of the office. He stared miserably after her.

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