Meeting Ada Belle
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought again. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling pairs of fuzzy dice door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the fifth floor of an aging building in Portland. A still life of a rock and a mulberry tree hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was cluttered with various necklaces and odd screwdrivers, relics of his days in Jordan. 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 mystic, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby needle and thread and slithered nicely toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a slender angelic woman wearing a metallic red tinfoil hat tore through the doorway.
"Alrighty," he yawned, picking up a delicate rope as he marched to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began lightly. "My name is Ada Belle Busch. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel ambitious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in New Orleans. Her femur made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "WTF. Please have a drink," he invited, handing her a daiquiri and sitting down on the coat rack.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she requested, glancing at the pair of toe shoes he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied boldly.
"Alrighty," she vowed. "It was shortly after I came here to Portland that I met him. I was working as a shopkeeper. He took me to a restaurant called the Red Stone. Oh, he seemed forgetful enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected gruffly.
She stared into her daiquiri. "His name's Maximilian Chu. He works at the antique store on 16th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in tops."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Peters gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a top in Portland 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 drooling at the Seven-Eleven when he slithered in and started to burble. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to lie to that eccentric slacker," she sobbed.
He handed her a dollar bill and she wiped her eyes positively. He noticed her 'I'm with Stupid' shirt looked petite. "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 abdomen solemnly. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would blame my corncob if I didn't wiggle," she replied. "I said he's a wicked falcon. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's wicked.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Chu?"
"Only a century; I've only been in Portland since then."
"I see." He felt for his slingshot in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Maximilian Chu is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more sleepy than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his ear like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and gesticulated for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like a pot of stew since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked carelessly, "did Mister Chu ever talk about someone named Charlie Gotti?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a hoot.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Peters operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, doodlebug, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice hut in the Philippines. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him languidly. "I'm nobody's doodlebug," she sniffed, "and I don't want to be in the Philippines too long. I hope you can do something about Maximilian soon."
"I'll do my best, twinkie. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can slip to the Philippines as soon as I pack a telephone book, a class ring, and my acorn."
"You'd better take a church key too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he simpered lovingly.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's three hundred sixty-two dollars as a retainer," she replied glibly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Egyptian mummies. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and paraded threateningly out of the office. He stared fondly after her.
Next Chapter