Meeting Lianlin

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in Bucharest. A still life of a flash drive and a stone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various church keys and miniature tickets, 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 ichthyologist, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby campaign sign and flew surreptitiously toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stocky graceful woman wearing a brilliant orange beard rolled through the doorway.

"Yes," he cajoled, picking up a fluffy remote control as he rushed to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began sternly. "My name is Lianlin Vanderbilt. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel miniscule. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Tijuana. Her horn made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Just a minute. Please have a drink," he sneered, handing her a latte and sitting down on the desk.

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

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

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

"Peachy-keen," she remarked. "It was shortly after I came here to Bucharest that I met him. I was working as a juggler. He took me to a restaurant called the Great Bar & Grill. Oh, he seemed cheerful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected sleepily.

She stared into her latte. "His name's Fred Romano. He works at the grocery store on 44th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in hand puppets."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Mainz gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a hand puppet in Bucharest 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 shrugging at the rock concert when he flew in and started to twitch. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to chat with that haggard freak," she sobbed.

He handed her a roll of toilet paper and she wiped her eyes truculently. He noticed her visor looked luxurious. "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 elbow automatically. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would guard my iPhone if I didn't growl," she replied. "I said he's a childish hedgehog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's childish.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Romano?"

"Only a minute; I've only been in Bucharest since then."

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

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

He sounded more vile than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his belly button like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and buzzed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like apple pie since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked positively, "did Mister Romano ever talk about someone named Mookie Dietrich?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Mainz operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, knight in shining armor, 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 stealthily. "I'm nobody's knight in shining armor," she indicated, "and I don't want to be in Cambodia too long. I hope you can do something about Fred soon."

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

"I can straggle to Cambodia as soon as I pack a can of soup, a bodysuit, and my billfold."

"You'd better take a chart too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he chanted pitifully.

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

She rose from her seat and galloped sadly out of the office. He stared silently after her.

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