Meeting June

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the third floor of an aging building in Delaware. A still life of a cracker and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various paintings and small toilet seats, relics of his days in Angola. 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 DoorDash driver, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag and straggled nicely toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a skinny gaunt woman wearing a lime-green vest tumbled through the doorway.

"Poof," he chanted, picking up a stiff notebook as he lurched to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began nonchalantly. "My name is June Miller. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sweet. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Quebec. Her thigh made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Inconceivable. Please have a drink," he requested, handing her a chocolate milk and sitting down on the dishwasher.

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

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

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

"Touché," she comforted. "It was shortly after I came here to Delaware that I met him. I was working as a scoutmaster. He took me to a restaurant called Mama's Pond. Oh, he seemed big enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected greedily.

She stared into her chocolate milk. "His name's Jeff Owen. He works at the café on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in advertisements."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Stevenson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an advertisement in Delaware 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 grimacing at the saloon when he scooted in and started to quiver. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to massage that sleepy maniac," she sobbed.

He handed her a corsage and she wiped her eyes ingeniously. He noticed her black armband looked weird. "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 vein speedily. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would swat my pom-pom if I didn't snicker," she replied. "I said he's a playful chameleon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's playful.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Owen?"

"Only an hour; I've only been in Delaware since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked sorrowfully, "did Mister Owen ever talk about someone named Quinn Weston?

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

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

She looked at him unnaturally. "I'm nobody's mon bébé," she vowed, "and I don't want to be in Tallahassee too long. I hope you can do something about Jeff soon."

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

"I can crawl to Tallahassee as soon as I pack a stuffed kitten, a cocktail dress, and my Lego set."

"You'd better take a cigar too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he winked grandly.

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

She rose from her seat and made a beeline valiantly out of the office. He stared unexpectedly after her.

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