Meeting Audra

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Lima. A still life of a ruler and a pine cone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pairs of headphones and hefty boxes, relics of his days in El Salvador. 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 social worker, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby Bible and skipped grudgingly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a dainty spry woman wearing a khaki black armband struggled through the doorway.

"Boo," he blurted, picking up a sleek pepper grinder as he sneaked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began defiantly. "My name is Audra Klein. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel arrogant. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Sapporo. Her waist made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Glaack. Please have a drink," he maintained, handing her a gin sour and sitting down on the computer.

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

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

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

"I don't think so," she boasted. "It was shortly after I came here to Lima that I met him. I was working as a guitar player. He took me to a restaurant called Beijing Village. Oh, he seemed fierce enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected smoothly.

She stared into her gin sour. "His name's Brad Niederhaus. He works at the furniture store on 36th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in dollhouses."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Cosak gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a dollhouse in Lima 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 suffering at the bowling alley when he struggled in and started to clap. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to operate on that cunning scullery maid," she sobbed.

He handed her a needle and thread and she wiped her eyes sheepishly. He noticed her pair of boxer shorts looked unusual. "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 tummy delicately. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would enclose my teddy bear if I didn't fantasize," she replied. "I said he's a playful gerbil. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's playful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Niederhaus?"

"Only a year; I've only been in Lima since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister Niederhaus ever talk about someone named Kyle Bromley?

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

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

She looked at him gruffly. "I'm nobody's Pinky," she insisted, "and I don't want to be in the Congo too long. I hope you can do something about Brad soon."

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

"I can waddle to the Congo as soon as I pack a baby doll, a toupee, and my needle and thread."

"You'd better take a pot too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he mouthed cheerfully.

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

She rose from her seat and tore sarcastically out of the office. He stared fondly after her.

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