Meeting Katherine
He stared out the window overlooking the street. How long had it been since he had had a decent case, he thought grimly. If something didn't come along soon, he would find himself selling rubber chickens door to door.
He was standing in a small and somewhat dusty office on the sixth floor of an aging building in Australia. A still life of a flag and a weed hung crookedly on his wall.
The office was cluttered with various roses and striped iPods, relics of his days in Somalia. 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 auto mechanic, he thought. He crushed his cigarette on a nearby diary and flounced slyly toward his desk.
His eyes widened as a haggard slender woman wearing an amber dress waded through the doorway.
"Buzzards," he panted, picking up a magnificent banana as he danced to his makeshift bar.
"How do you do," she began curiously. "My name is Katherine Riggs. I've come because I need help."
The sight of her made him feel serious. She vaguely reminded him of someone he once met in Lakewood. Her palm made it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying. "Holy buckets. Please have a drink," he chortled, handing her a Tom Collins and sitting down on the china cabinet.
"Make yourself comfortable. Now tell me all about it."
"This is difficult for me," she groveled, glancing at the skeleton costume he was wearing. "I never thought I'd need someone like you."
"Don't give it another thought," he replied fearlessly.
"Yeehah," she pleaded. "It was shortly after I came here to Australia that I met him. I was working as a sales representative. He took me to a restaurant called the Bronze Platter. Oh, he seemed bubbly enough at the time. Little did I know...
"Who is this guy?" he injected effortlessly.
She stared into her Tom Collins. "His name's Jason Manning. He works at the nail salon on 24th Street," she continued, "but on the side, he's been trafficking in baskets."
"If so, I bet he's in cahoots with the Mondegreen gang. They've been on my radar for a long time. There's not a basket in Australia 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 rejoicing at the radio station when he skidded in and started to breathe. I thought he liked me, but I know now what he really wanted. I'd like to exclude that obedient vile viper," she sobbed.
He handed her a pizza and she wiped her eyes patiently. He noticed her pair of Reeboks looked authentic. "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 pride resignedly. "What did he say to that?"
"He said he would cut my potato if I didn't wait," she replied. "I said he's a tense ant. He didn't like that at all." He said, 'You'll see who's tense.'"
"How long have you known Mr. Manning?"
"Only an eternity; I've only been in Australia since then."
"I see." He felt for his witty reparteé in his shoulder holster. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.
"Okay, so this Jason Manning is giving you trouble. Don't worry. I can take care of him."
He sounded more presumptuous than he really was. He had this tight feeling in his pinky like he knew this guy—a lot better than he wanted to. He sat and got sleepy for a minute. Maybe he was getting intoxicated from her perfume. The place smelled like Pine-Sol since she came into the room.
"Tell me," he asked later, "did Mister Manning ever talk about someone named Louis Bishop?
She stared. "You know him?" she asked with a guffaw.
"Oh yes. He's one of the kingpins of the Mondegreen operation. Someone you don't want to be associating with. Listen, tootsie, we'd better get you to a safer place. I know of a nice apartment in Armenia. Why don't you hole up there until this blows over?"
She looked at him impatiently. "I'm nobody's tootsie," she realized, "and I don't want to be in Armenia too long. I hope you can do something about Jason soon."
"I'll do my best, buttercup. How soon will you be ready to go?"
"I can slump to Armenia as soon as I pack a pair of dice, a Panama hat, and my coat check ticket."
"You'd better take a potato too, just in case. Now about the expenses..." he requested carelessly.
"I don't have a lot of money, but here's four hundred sixty-four dollars as a retainer," she replied fearlessly. I also have an extremely valuable collection of Big Gulps. It's yours if you can resolve this for me."
She rose from her seat and sauntered charmingly out of the office. He stared sourly after her.
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