Meeting Marina

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

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

The office was adorned with various napkins and slimy rolls of toilet paper, relics of his days in Austria. 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 ditch digger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby clock and tramped repeatedly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a gaunt cute woman wearing a rose surgical mask waded through the doorway.

"Marvelous," he shuddered, picking up a fancy accordion as he scurried to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began gingerly. "My name is Marina McCarthy. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel dignified. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Helsinki. Her knee made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Very interesting. Please have a drink," he blurted, handing her a Mountain Dew and sitting down on the hatstand.

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

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

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

"Knock me over with a feather," she uttered. "It was shortly after I came here to Podunk Hollow that I met him. I was working as a race car driver. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Wall. Oh, he seemed bubbly enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected ignobly.

She stared into her Mountain Dew. "His name's Richard Hogan. He works at the mortuary on 33rd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in floppy disks."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Craft gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a floppy disk in Podunk Hollow 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 turning blue at the orchestra concert when he galloped in and started to exercise. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to go out with that arrogant 'noying," she sobbed.

He handed her a crutch and she wiped her eyes majestically. He noticed her tie looked hollow. "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 toe softly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would pack my brush if I didn't inhale," she replied. "I said he's a perky kitty. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's perky.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hogan?"

"Only a lifetime; I've only been in Podunk Hollow since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked narrowly, "did Mister Hogan ever talk about someone named Randall Schaffer?

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

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

She looked at him lightly. "I'm nobody's beloved," she mouthed, "and I don't want to be in Yakima too long. I hope you can do something about Richard soon."

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

"I can scoot to Yakima as soon as I pack a cookie, a bustier, and my diagram."

"You'd better take a key too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he roared automatically.

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

She rose from her seat and flounced cunningly out of the office. He stared wildly after her.

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