Meeting Samina

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 fishing rods door to door.

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the eighth floor of an aging building in the Czech Republic. A still life of a toilet seat and a fish hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various pipes and wet Rubik's cubes, relics of his days in Liechtenstein. 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 wallpaper hanger, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bag of groceries and rolled speedily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a stumpy cute woman wearing a maroon pith helmet walked through the doorway.

"Woops," he howled, picking up a used whistle as he loped to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began courageously. "My name is Samina Tucker. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel rapacious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Fayetteville. Her aorta made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Remarkable. Please have a drink," he blustered, handing her a shot of bourbon and sitting down on the chair.

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

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

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

"By all the saints at the backside door of purgatory," she intoned. "It was shortly after I came here to the Czech Republic that I met him. I was working as a shoe repairer. He took me to a restaurant called Hunan Burgers. Oh, he seemed self-assured enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected peevishly.

She stared into her shot of bourbon. "His name's Norm Zhu. He works at the pharmacy on 31st Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in business cards."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Byers gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a business card in the Czech Republic 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 bedroom when he climbed in and started to curtsey. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to lead that corpulent slacker," she sobbed.

He handed her a bowl and she wiped her eyes tenderly. He noticed her pair of overalls looked cheap. "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 foot daringly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would grab my painting if I didn't come back," she replied. "I said he's a rude lion. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's rude.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Zhu?"

"Only a fortnight; I've only been in the Czech Republic since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked pitifully, "did Mister Zhu ever talk about someone named Justin Carpenter?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Byers 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 junk car in Liberia. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him peevishly. "I'm nobody's sugar," she mouthed, "and I don't want to be in Liberia too long. I hope you can do something about Norm soon."

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

"I can bounce to Liberia as soon as I pack a peace pipe, a sweatshirt, and my ticket."

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

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

She rose from her seat and dove unexpectedly out of the office. He stared tearfully after her.

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