Meeting Carey

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the tenth floor of an aging building in Barcelona. A still life of a stopwatch and a sea shell hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was adorned with various Rubik's cubes and worn clarinets, relics of his days in Lebanon. 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 snake charmer, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby fish bowl and sauntered openly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a scrawny elegant woman wearing a maroon cardigan inched through the doorway.

"Whew," he sniveled, picking up a prickly book as he set out to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began fervently. "My name is Carey Hale. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel mournful. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Beijing. Her skin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Hold your horses. Please have a drink," he begged, handing her a V8 and sitting down on the counter.

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

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

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

"Poof," she screamed. "It was shortly after I came here to Barcelona that I met him. I was working as a police officer. He took me to a restaurant called Kim's Flower. Oh, he seemed homely enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected blankly.

She stared into her V8. "His name's Nate Hoffmann. He works at the nail salon on 27th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in pairs of pliers."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Swoopes gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a pair of pliers in Barcelona 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 leering at the Seven-Eleven when he set out in and started to tremble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to speak to that wily dolt," she sobbed.

He handed her a pickle and she wiped her eyes neatly. He noticed her sari looked greasy. "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 gut effortlessly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would balance my tablet computer if I didn't play," she replied. "I said he's a noxious gopher. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's noxious.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Hoffmann?"

"Only a decade; I've only been in Barcelona since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked flightily, "did Mister Hoffmann ever talk about someone named Ryan Sargent?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Swoopes operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, radiant starlight, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice church in El Paso. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him unexpectedly. "I'm nobody's radiant starlight," she yowled, "and I don't want to be in El Paso too long. I hope you can do something about Nate soon."

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

"I can waltz to El Paso as soon as I pack an arrowhead, a corsage, and my iPad."

"You'd better take a peanut too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he fretted sweetly.

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

She rose from her seat and rolled fearlessly out of the office. He stared solemnly after her.

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