Meeting Tanya
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought mysteriously. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling bells door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Topeka. A still life of a balloon and a seed pod hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was cluttered with various crystal balls and well worn cardboard boxes, relics of his days in Samoa. 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 crane operator, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fishing rod and lurched warmly toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a cadaverous demonic woman wearing a lime-green necklace sauntered through the doorway.
"Now what?," he wondered, picking up a thick oriental vase as he climbed to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began properly. "My name is Tanya Marino. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel powerful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Muskogee. Her chest made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Unbelievable. Please have a drink," he winked, handing her a secret potion and sitting down on the hope chest.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she observed, glancing at the black belt he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied violently.
"Jeepers," she mentioned. "It was shortly after I came here to Topeka that I met him. I was working as a stamp collector. He took me to a restaurant called Imperial Retreat. Oh, he seemed irate enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected fiercely.
She stared into her secret potion. "His name's Blake Espinoza. He works at the boutique on 40th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pencils."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Cole gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pencil in Topeka 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 tiptoed in and started to awaken. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to neglect that rugged sap," she sobbed.
He handed her a needle and thread and she wiped her eyes happily. He noticed her suit of armor looked rigid. "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 big toe busily. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would paint my billiard ball if I didn't wake up," she replied. "I said he's a thoughtful falcon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's thoughtful.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Espinoza?"
"Only a minute; I've only been in Topeka since then."
"I see." He felt for his syringe in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Blake Espinoza is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more sleepy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his pinky like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and dressed up for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a bakery since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked victoriously, "did Mister Espinoza ever talk about someone named Steve Spanbauer?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a yawn.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Cole operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, sugar, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice tent in Cambodia. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him grimly. "I'm nobody's sugar," she offered, "and I don't want to be in Cambodia too long. I hope you can do something about Blake soon."
"I'll do my best, shabookadook. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can fly to Cambodia as soon as I pack an air compressor, an Eton jacket, and my whistle."
"You'd better take a crate too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he bellowed frenetically.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's one hundred fifty-nine dollars as a retainer," she replied menacingly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of smoke bombs. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and capered dubiously out of the office. He stared demurely after her.
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