Meeting Norma

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Swaziland. A still life of a yo-yo and a pine cone hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various beach balls and filthy hats, relics of his days in Botswana. 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 music teacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diagram and galloped wearily toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a slender graceful woman wearing a khaki blazer climbed through the doorway.

"Oops," he shrieked, picking up a bent hockey puck as he bolted to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began lovingly. "My name is Norma Conrad. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel talkative. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Honolulu. Her jaw made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Fine. Please have a drink," he noted, handing her a 7-Up and sitting down on the coffee table.

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

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

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

"Uh-huh," she exploded. "It was shortly after I came here to Swaziland that I met him. I was working as a cryptography teacher. He took me to a restaurant called Fireside Castle. Oh, he seemed irate enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected carelessly.

She stared into her 7-Up. "His name's Karl Buffalo. He works at the liquor store on 12th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in cigarette lighters."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Hogan gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a cigarette lighter in Swaziland 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 chattering at the mall when he went in and started to frown. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to step on that silly dingleberry," she sobbed.

He handed her a dollhouse and she wiped her eyes automatically. He noticed her Armani suit looked hefty. "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 shin timidly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would unfold my plaque if I didn't lie around in bed," she replied. "I said he's a dignified gerbil. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's dignified.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Buffalo?"

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

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

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

He sounded more self-confident than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his aorta like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and lay around in bed for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like barbeque since she came into the room.

"Tell me," he asked madly, "did Mister Buffalo ever talk about someone named Morgan Ulster?

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

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

She looked at him uneasily. "I'm nobody's mon bébé," she demanded, "and I don't want to be in Swaziland too long. I hope you can do something about Karl soon."

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

"I can zoom to Swaziland as soon as I pack a helmet, a gown, and my rag."

"You'd better take a ball too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he sneered lovingly.

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

She rose from her seat and walked kindly out of the office. He stared cruelly after her.

Next Chapter