Meeting Kelley

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

He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Greensboro. A still life of a cupcake and a dead tree hung crookedly on his wall.

The office was cluttered with various bowling balls and prickly piggy banks, relics of his days in Bangladesh. 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 burglar, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby basketball and stormed smoothly toward his desk.

His eyes widened as a shapely pallid woman wearing a turquoise hat walked through the doorway.

"Rats," he mouthed, picking up an odd Barbie doll as he walked to his makeshift bar.

"How do you do," she began urgently. "My name is Kelley Foster. I've come because I need help."

The sight of her made him feel unselfish. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Midland. Her shin made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Ouch. Please have a drink," he wailed, handing her a soda and sitting down on the TV.

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

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

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

"Oops," she stormed. "It was shortly after I came here to Greensboro that I met him. I was working as a petroleum engineer. He took me to a restaurant called Southern King. Oh, he seemed playful enough at the time. Little did I know...

"Who is this guy?" he injected doubtfully.

She stared into her soda. "His name's George Marino. He works at the coffee shop on 26th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in fountain pens."

"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Chu gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a fountain pen in Greensboro 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 blinking at the synagogue when he crept in and started to scribble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to frighten that awkward bum," she sobbed.

He handed her a camera and she wiped her eyes urgently. He noticed her pair of earrings looked excellent. "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 wrist reluctantly. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he would loosen my water bottle if I didn't holler," she replied. "I said he's a princely kangaroo. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's princely.'"

"How long have you known Mr. Marino?"

"Only a day; I've only been in Greensboro since then."

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

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

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

"Tell me," he asked hungrily, "did Mister Marino ever talk about someone named Octavio Domínguez?

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

"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Chu operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, baby-doll, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice park bench in Bagdad. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"

She looked at him calmly. "I'm nobody's baby-doll," she gasped, "and I don't want to be in Bagdad too long. I hope you can do something about George soon."

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

"I can sprint to Bagdad as soon as I pack a fishing rod, a veil, and my banana."

"You'd better take a duffel bag too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he shrieked majestically.

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

She rose from her seat and waded violently out of the office. He stared excitedly after her.

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