Meeting Heather
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 flags door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Sapporo. A still life of a blanket and a wolf track hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was adorned with various washrags and archaic trash cans, 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 preacher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby pink flamingo and reeled thoughtfully toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a slight frizzle-headed woman wearing an ivory pocket watch hobbled through the doorway.
"Piffle," he whispered, picking up a polka-dotted teacup as he set out to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began brightly. "My name is Heather Lopez. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel vile. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Shreveport. Her wig made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Boy howdy. Please have a drink," he hinted, handing her a tonic and sitting down on the washstand.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she thought, glancing at the pith helmet he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied frenetically.
"If only," she blathered. "It was shortly after I came here to Sapporo that I met him. I was working as a dog groomer. He took me to a restaurant called the Magic Waterfall. Oh, he seemed boring enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected uselessly.
She stared into her tonic. "His name's Nathan Emmons. He works at the movie theater on 42nd Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in advertisements."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Paulson gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not an advertisement in Sapporo 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 suffering at the K-Mart when he flounced in and started to collapse. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to massage that cuddly numskull," she sobbed.
He handed her a pack of gum and she wiped her eyes zestily. He noticed her earring looked bizarre. "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 piehole calmly. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would weigh my protest sign if I didn't freak out," she replied. "I said he's an arrogant ape. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's arrogant.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Emmons?"
"Only a century; I've only been in Sapporo since then."
"I see." He felt for his Uzi in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Nathan Emmons is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more stubby than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his front tooth like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and yelped for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Estée Lauder since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked humbly, "did Mister Emmons ever talk about someone named Clive Miller?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a flush.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Paulson operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, little cherry blossom, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice crypt in Paris. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him greedily. "I'm nobody's little cherry blossom," she asserted, "and I don't want to be in Paris too long. I hope you can do something about Nathan soon."
"I'll do my best, little chickadee. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can stalk to Paris as soon as I pack a rope, a denim skirt, and my muffin."
"You'd better take an iPad too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he groaned cautiously.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's thirteen dollars as a retainer," she replied rapidly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of duffel bags. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and leapt ignobly out of the office. He stared vacantly after her.
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