Meeting Kami
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought effortlessly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling air compressors door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the second floor of an aging building in Lansing. A still life of a stone and a flower hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was cluttered with various cans of sardines and hard abacuses, relics of his days in the Congo. 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 church usher, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby bilge pump and bounded vigorously toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a well-formed blue-eyed woman wearing a black thong whirled through the doorway.
"Spiff," he joked, picking up a cotton dictionary as he lumbered to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began greedily. "My name is Kami Dinklefloss. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel awkward. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Auckland. Her little toe made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Cease and desist. Please have a drink," he stammered, handing her an old fashioned and sitting down on the pillow.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she smirked, glancing at the sweatshirt he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied carefully.
"Yeehah," she hissed. "It was shortly after I came here to Lansing that I met him. I was working as a psychic. He took me to a restaurant called California Delight. Oh, he seemed cautious enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected bitterly.
She stared into her old fashioned. "His name's Guy Oliver. He works at the café on 14th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in sponges."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Greenwood gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a sponge in Lansing 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 standing by at the library when he skipped in and started to go limp. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to sing to that gregarious snowflake," she sobbed.
He handed her a piano and she wiped her eyes valiantly. He noticed her romper looked smelly. "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 rib ruefully. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would liquify my necklace if I didn't grow up," she replied. "I said he's a tall mink. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's tall.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Oliver?"
"Only an eternity; I've only been in Lansing since then."
"I see." He felt for his scalpel in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Guy Oliver is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more diabolical than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his toenail like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and itched for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like incense since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked openly, "did Mister Oliver ever talk about someone named Jeff Cleveland?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a grunt.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Greenwood operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, sweet pea, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice barracks in Atlanta. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him unnaturally. "I'm nobody's sweet pea," she taunted, "and I don't want to be in Atlanta too long. I hope you can do something about Guy soon."
"I'll do my best, snigglefritz. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can tear to Atlanta as soon as I pack a toilet plunger, a cummerbund, and my candle."
"You'd better take a china doll too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he invited diligently.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's two hundred forty dollars as a retainer," she replied suspiciously. I also have an extremely valuable collection of cell phones. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and waddled courageously out of the office. He stared bitterly after her.
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