Meeting Erica

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the ninth floor of an aging building in the Philippines. A still life of a notepad and a bear track hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various stuffed owls and hand-painted 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 clerk, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby iPhone and traipsed briskly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a chubby adorable woman wearing an aquamarine Armani suit waded through the doorway.

"Ultimate," he decided, picking up a grubby oriental vase as he strolled to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began suddenly. "My name is Erica Austin. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel sketchy. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Arvada. Her spine made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ka-ching. Please have a drink," he pleaded, handing her a gin and tonic and sitting down on the buffet.

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

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

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

"Well," she whined. "It was shortly after I came here to the Philippines that I met him. I was working as a crime scene investigator. He took me to a restaurant called Imperial Greasy Spoon. Oh, he seemed intelligent enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected thoughtfully.

She stared into her gin and tonic. "His name's Nathan German. He works at the Starbucks on 11th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in clothespins."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Park gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a clothespin in the Philippines 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 huffing at the bagel shop when he straggled in and started to gaze. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to dumbfound that cowardly old coot," she sobbed.

He handed her a can of soup and she wiped her eyes glibly. He noticed her scarf looked damaged. "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 gall bladder elatedly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would loosen my rock if I didn't pray," she replied. "I said he's a young groundhog. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's young.'"

"How long have you known Mr. German?"

"Only a century; I've only been in the Philippines since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked firmly, "did Mister German ever talk about someone named Rock Jacobs?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Park operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, joy of my life, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice cardboard box in Poland. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him miserably. "I'm nobody's joy of my life," she stuttered, "and I don't want to be in Poland too long. I hope you can do something about Nathan soon."

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

"I can speed to Poland as soon as I pack a bird feeder, a blazer, and my football."

"You'd better take a protest sign too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he debated dubiously.

"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred fifty-five dollars as a retainer," she replied hysterically. I also have an extremely valuable collection of chamber pots. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."

She rose from her seat and rolled surreptitiously out of the office. He stared openly after her.

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